Wren's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

On the morning Wren turned twenty-one, the forest below her tower had chirped with life. Antlers rose from her dark curls, and her mother said those antlers meant she was born to heal the wood. Wren was born from the forest itself, from one of the many forest gods and goddesses. Her purpose was to heal the lands though Wren did not know it yet. Below, in the ivy that wrapped the tower stones, Vesper stood watch. He was her scarecrow, stitched from a jack-o'-lantern she carved herself, given life by her own hand. His root fingers gripped a fence post. His carved face turned up to her window and glowed orange. He was the only friend she had ever made, in the truest sense. The stairs creaked. Astrid came up with a tray of honey buns, warm and sticky. Her black hair carried its single white streak, and her slippers hushed against the stone. Wren had known this woman her whole life as her mother, though Astrid was a witch, and Wren had always sensed a distance in her love, like a lantern held behind glass. "Happy birthday," Astrid said. She set the tray down. She did not smile. "You are of age now. I can no longer keep the prophecy from you." Wren took a bun and did not eat it. "Prophecy?" "On this day you were fated to leave this tower." Astrid's voice stayed low and even. "A darkness is spreading through the forests. It rots the roots and silences the animals. The prophecy says only you can heal it. That is why I raised you here, hidden, waiting." Wren looked at the gray blight below. Her stomach tightened. "You knew this was coming. You never said." "I hoped I was wrong." Astrid touched the white streak in her hair. "I remember when one of the forest gods brought you to me." Wren set the bun back on the tray. She thought of every squirrel and every bird outside her window, and the black rot that wanted to reach them. She thought of Vesper alone at the wall. She could stay safe behind stone, or she could go. She crossed to the chest at her bed and pulled out her boots. Brown hide, worn soft. She laced them tight. She pulled her green belt around her waist and buckled it. "I'm going then," Wren said. Astrid did not stop her. She reached out her hands and touched Wren's face. She spoke soft with tears: "I will always be here waiting for you." Wren went down the winding stairs and pushed open the tower door. Vesper turned, his carved eyes flaring bright. Cold air rolled off the trees, and it smelled of rot, not pine. The forest waited, dying. Wren stepped off the last stone stair and onto the blackened ground. The tower door swung shut behind her. She looked at Vesper and called him to her side.