Rosie Roo's Arc

Chapter 10 of 10

Rosie reached the mountaintop at dusk. The fairy deer walked beside her, petals bright in its coat, its warmth wrapped around the spore in her arms. The altar rose from the stone, tall and carved with old runes, its edges crowded with tiny fungus. She climbed the worn steps. She set the glowing egg on the highest stone. The altar shivered awake. Light ran through its carvings like water. The old cold stone grew warm. The spore trembled in her hands. It leaned toward the altar, ready. Rosie looked up for the moon. She needed it full and round to make the spore bloom. But the moon hung thin, a pale sliver, weeks away from full. Her chest went tight. The spore's cap had already begun to dull. It could not wait for the next full moon. "No," Rosie whispered. "Not now. Not after everything." She pressed the spore closer to the deer's warm side. The deer nosed her arm, gentle, but its heat only kept the spore alive. It could not make the sky change. Then Rosie remembered. The old fairy had pressed two things on her at the door. Not only the egg. A bundle wrapped in cloth. Rosie set the spore in the fur nest beside the deer and tore the cloth open. Inside lay folded robes, layered with flowers and silver trim. Beneath them rested a smooth crescent horn, hollow at its center, curved like the moon itself. Rosie understood. A priestess had worn these robes long ago. The horn was shaped to catch the moon and lie about it. She pulled the robes over her gown. She lifted the horn toward the thin sliver of moon. The hollow curve caught the weak light. It gathered it, bent it, and swelled it. A wide silver glow spilled from the horn onto the altar. To the ancient stone, the sky now looked full. The runes flared. The clustered fungus on the altar glowed pink. Rosie set the spore in the center hollow. She spoke to it, the way she had every day. "Bloom now. You're home." She held the horn steady, arms shaking, and poured the false moonlight over the sacred stone. The spore split its cap. A single pink bud pushed up, then opened wide. Petals unfurled, glowing, soft as dawn. The legendary pink mushroom bloomed on the altar at last. Its light filled the mountaintop. The deer bowed its head. Rosie laughed, tears on her face. She lowered the horn. But as the false moon faded, a new fear struck her. The flower glowed, alive and open. Now she had to make her wish. And she did not yet know the words the altar would demand to grant it.