Chapter 25 A Garden of Blue Roses #2
Elder A?na waits near the ancient stone, surrounded by a few of the nymphí I met this morning. As we approach, they all bow to me. Mina, Na?a, and Essin are at my side.
“Elder A?na, thank you for this beautiful gown. I’m honored,” I say, stepping into the glade.
Her expression is kind as she comes to meet me, the glow of the sacred glade reflecting off her silver fur. She holds out the pendant, but her eyes search mine.
“This crystal,” she begins. “It belonged to ándor.”
“ándor?” My fingers curl around the fabric of my gown. “Was he a vólkin?”
“Yes. He left ávera long ago, before the barrier appeared. He claimed he’d seen his mate in his dreams and that he had to find her. This”—her paw tips toward the light blue crystal hanging from its new silver chain—“was your mother’s crystal, you say?”
My vision blurs, and I quickly blink back the tears threatening to spill.
“She . . . she was human,” I manage to whisper.
Elder A?na offers the pendant to me, and I reach out with trembling fingers. The moment it touches my palm, an inexplicable warmth spreads through me, both familiar and foreign. Like a memory just out of reach. My thumb traces the surface of the crystal. It’s smooth and faintly blue. Too faint.
I glance up at Elder A?na. “The crystals on your foreheads, they’re vibrant. This one is . . . dull.” My voice grows steadier as I study it more closely. “What does that mean?”
A?na’s gaze darkens, her brow furrowing in thought.
She lifts her paw to her own crystals, a V-shaped formation of white gems that glimmer with life.
“When a vólkin dies their crystal loses its brilliance, turning dull, like ordinary stone. It’s a reflection of their spirit’s departure from the body. ”
My grip tightens on the pendant, dread curling in my stomach. “Then ándor . . . he’s . . .”
Elder A?na shakes her head, her eyes narrowing as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “This crystal is neither vibrant nor fully dulled. It’s muted, suspended between life and death. I have never seen such a thing.”
I stare at the crystal, trying to make sense of its unusual state. The weak blue hue pulses in the light, almost as if it’s holding on to something. Or someone.
“What does it mean?” I ask.
“I do not know,” A?na admits, her tone uncharacteristically uncertain.
“It should not be possible. If ándor passed, the crystal would have dulled completely. If he lived, it would shine brightly, as ours do. This faint light . . .” Her voice trails off as she studies the pendant with a frown. “Perhaps it is tied to you.”
“To me?” My voice cracks. “How could it be? I don’t even—” I stop myself, the words trapped in my throat. I don’t even know who ándor is.
Elder A?na tilts her head, her ancient, pupilless eyes locking onto mine. “Crystals are bound to the soul, Ethereal Leader. If this was once ándor’s, then it carries his essence. If it came to your mother, and now to you . . .” She pauses. “There may be a connection you have yet to uncover.”
My mind races, but no answers come. “You knew him,” I say, desperate for more. “What was he like?”
A small smile touches Elder A?na’s mouth, though it’s tinged with sadness. “I knew ándor well. He was strong, intelligent, and protective of those he loved. Even as a cub, he was curious, always seeking more from the world than what was in front of him. He was one of the strongest vólkins I knew.”
She exhales, her gaze drifting toward the glade as if she can see him in the distance. “When he left, it was with certainty. He believed he had found his mate in his dreams. That bond is the strongest of all for a vólkin. He would have done anything to reach her.”
I clutch the pendant tighter. Was ándor my mother’s mate? Could she have been tied to this world, to the vólkin? But my mother, she was born and raised in Tárnov, just as I was.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper. “If this crystal belonged to him, why did my mother have it? How did she— How could she . . .” My words falter, the questions too tangled to finish.
Elder A?na’s paw settles on my hand. “The answers may not come easily,” she says. “But the crystal found its way to you for a reason. Trust in that. And trust in yourself to uncover its meaning.”
Na?a steps closer to me, her paws extended as she offers to help me put on the pendant. I nod as I hand over my precious jewel.
ándor . . . He probably knew Theron’s parents. He knew my mother. The more I learn about this world, the deeper the mysteries grow, twisting my thoughts into knots I can’t seem to untie.
“Who were Theron’s parents?” My voice cuts through the quiet hum of the sacred glade. I can’t stop myself, the need for answers is driving me insane.
Elder A?na hums, her arms clasped behind her back as she gazes at the ancient stone. “ánya and Vládan,” she replies.
“ánya?” I repeat. It’s a common name in Tárnov, popular for centuries among noble families. Could it be . . .
“Is ánya human?” I ask, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.
“Was,” Elder A?na replies simply.
Was. ánya is gone. Of course, she would be. Theron is over four hundred years old, his mother would have passed long ago. Still, the realization stings.
“ánya was the kindest human I ever met,” Elder A?na says. “Theron has her eyes—hazel and bright.”
Theron listened to me speak of my mother’s loss, but he never mentioned his own. Did it hurt him too much to say? I need to talk to him. I need to hear this from him, not secondhand.
“Elder A?na,” I say, my voice firm now.
Her ears twitch at my tone, and she turns her piercing gaze toward me.
“I need to speak with Theron,” I continue. “Where is he?”
The corners of her mouth curl ever so slightly, a grin that makes her ageless face seem younger. “Hunting,” she replies, with a hint of amusement.
“Hunting?”
“For the welcome ceremony,” Na?a adds. She steps back after securing the pendant around my neck.
The weight of it settles against my chest. I glance down at the misty blue crystal. I have so many questions. “I see,” I murmur. But in truth, I don’t see at all.
Soon. I will find Theron, and he will tell me everything.
“It is time,” Elder A?na says.
She doesn’t need to say more. I know what she expects, so I turn to face the others. More vólkins gather near the ancient stone, each bowing as they approach.
“We’ll start with meditation,” Mina says, guiding me deeper into the glade. “It will help you connect with the spirits of the forest and find your inner balance.”
I nod, and my heart beats faster as I take a seat near the stone, my legs crossed and my hands resting on my thighs.
Elder A?na’s voice is steady as she begins. “Close your eyes and breathe deeply. Feel the energy of the forest flowing through you. Let your mind grow still and listen to the whispers of the trees.”
Following her instructions, I let my eyes fall closed and the cool forest air fill my lungs. As I exhale, I imagine the worries leaving me. One by one, I gather my thoughts—the questions about my mother, about ándor, about this strange world I’ve been thrust into—and try to push them away.
The wind brushes against my skin, and the grass beneath my ankles is soft.
Elder A?na’s voice continues, calm and guiding. “Now, imagine yourself as a tree. Let your roots grow down into the earth. Feel the strength of the ground supporting you.”
I picture it clearly, my roots intertwining with the ancient trees around me. A warmth spreads through me as though the forest is sharing its strength.
“Allow your mind to drift back through time.” Elder A?na’s voice grows distant. “Feel the presence of those who came before us. They guide and protect us even now.”
The warmth wraps around me like a gentle embrace.
I see a woman standing with her hand resting on a massive wolf’s back. She is beautiful, her hair flowing as though caught in an unseen breeze, her eyes filled with wisdom. The wolf is equally imposing, his gaze intelligent.
“You have come far, my child,” the woman says, her voice serene and so powerful. “You are the key to restoring the balance.”
I feel as though I know her, though I’ve never seen her before. “Who are you?” My voice wavers.
“I am the Mother of All,” she replies. “You carry my legacy within you. The bond you share with the vólkins is ancient and powerful.”
A chill rushes through me. My heart races, but I force myself to ask. “What must I do?”
“You must make the blue rose bloom again,” she says simply.
Before I can respond, a whirlwind of blue petals surrounds me. The air grows cold, then hot, and my body seems to be frozen in place. My breaths come fast and shallow as the storm intensifies, the petals brushing against my skin. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the storm vanishes.
I gasp, my chest heaves as I struggle to regain control, and my heart pounds as the vision fades around me. The moment I can, I open my eyes to the present. The vólkins are watching me. Eyes wide.
“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” Mina asks.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead, my voice shaky. “I don’t . . . I don’t know.”
The vólkins exchange glances. Elder A?na steps forward, her expression grave. “Look around you, Ethereal Leader.”
When I do, my breath catches in my throat. Blue roses—dozens of them—surround me.
I turn, looking behind me. More roses. They weren’t here before. Searching for answers, I meet Elder A?na’s eyes.
A tear slips down my cheek and falls to the ground. Where it lands, a single blue rose grows from the soil to bloom before my eyes.
I swallow hard. “What . . . what does this mean?”
“It means,” she says, her gaze never leaving mine, “the prophecy has truly begun.”