Lunaria Silverhorn's Arc

Chapter 6 of 6

The great tree glowed above them, its branches holding color like frozen light. Below, the white forest began to stir. Lunaria watched a drift of snow shift and fall from a low branch. A bird shook itself loose from the ice and flew. One by one, the dead trees woke. Green crept up gray trunks. The silence broke into small sounds—wings, water, the soft crunch of thawing ground. The little fox with starlit fur darted down the slope and spun in a circle. The deer-cat with the crescent mark on its brow lifted its head and called into the trees. Far off, other voices answered. Through the clearing creatures came—deer, hares, birds in bright flocks. Behind them walked people, wrapped in furs, blinking at the light. They had waited in the dark a long time. Now they came up the slope toward the tree and the goddess who had slept. Nevelune pushed herself off the trunk. Her face lit when she saw them. "My little ones," she said. She went to them with her arms open. A child reached up and touched her feathered sleeve. The people knelt in the melting snow and wept and laughed at once. Someone pressed a cluster of glowing blue roses into the goddess's hands. Another held up a small frosted sweet shaped like a petal, a gift saved through the long winter. Then the people turned to Lunaria. They had seen her climb the slope beside the goddess. They knew whose hand had been pressed to the tree. They came to her with their roses and their sweets and their thanks. A woman bowed. A child held up the glowing flowers. Lunaria took them, unsure what to say. Her antlers were dark. She had no magic to give back. She felt plain and empty standing among them. Nevelune saw this. She crossed to Lunaria and took both her hands. "You gave everything," the goddess said. "Your shards. Your strength. Then your life, when nothing was left." Her icy eyes shone. "A gift like that cannot go unanswered." Lunaria shook her head. "I did not come for payment. I came to wake the forest." "I know," Nevelune said. She smiled like a child with a secret. "That is why I can do this." She lifted one hand and laid it against Lunaria's brow, just below the dark antlers. "You spent your power because it was never truly yours. It was only ever borrowed from the cold. Let me give you some of mine. It will not fade. It will not crack." Warmth spread from the goddess's palm. It ran down through Lunaria's head and into her chest and limbs. Her antlers caught a faint light, then brightened. The glow climbed until they blazed soft and steady, lavender shot through with white. Lunaria gasped. The feeling was not like the shard at all. The shard had always been slipping away. This held firm, like a root in deep ground. She looked at her own hands. They shimmered. She knelt and touched a patch of snow still frozen at her feet. The ice softened. A single blue rose pushed up through it and opened, glowing. The people cheered. The fox leapt against her side. The deer-cat pressed its warm nose to her shoulder. "Your magic is your own now," Nevelune said. "It comes from inside you. You will never run dry again." She tilted her head, whimsy breaking through her tears. "Though I hope you will visit. It is very dull being a goddess with no one to talk to." Lunaria laughed. She had not laughed in a long time. The sound surprised her. "I will come back," she said. "As often as you let me." They made the celebration there, under the shining tree. The people built small fires that did not fear the wind, because there was no wind. They shared frosted sweets and passed the glowing roses from hand to hand. Children chased the starlit fox through the thawing wood. The deer-cat lay in the grass with its two tails curled, the crescent on its brow catching the tree's light. Nevelune sat among her people and let a child braid her silver hair. Lunaria stood at the edge of it all and watched the forest she had saved. The frozen wilds were frozen no longer. Green and water and voices filled the places that had been white and silent. Her antlers glowed, warm and steady, and this time the light was hers. She had set out to wake a dying forest. It was awake now, and so, at last, was she.