Chapter 47 Wren
Wren was in the darkness, but she was not all the way dead. She could still hear her sister’s sobs, feel the brush of her hair against her skin, smell the roaring fire that surrounded them. But the lightning bolt had rattled her soul loose. One minute Wren was in her body and the next she was above it, peering down on herself from above.
Rose was cradling her, the twins lying together in a heap. The burning branches of the Mother Tree stretched over them, as though in protection. On the other side of the mighty trunk, Oonagh Starcrest lay on her back, staring unseeing at the evening sky. Her eyes were green and glassy, her legs twisted in the dirt. She looked so small and pale now, delicate as a broken doll. Her power had all but drained away, leaving the shell of her body behind.
Behind her, the forest was glowing. The spirits had gathered along the treeline. Wren traced the silvery shapes of her ancestors in the shadows, heard their whispers in the wind.
‘Loving with your final breath,
And making the sacrifice of death,
Has turned the queen upon herself,
And felled her curse to save yourself.’
Wren understood then what she had done. By sacrificing herself for Rose and bearing the brunt of Oonagh’s lightning bolt, she had unwittingly cast a spell far greater than the one her ancestor intended. A kind of magic so powerful that it rebounded on Oonagh and shattered the curse that tied Wren to her – the curse that had been feeding her ancestor’s power.
But Oonagh was not yet dead. Her finger twitched, and Wren felt a distant twinge of panic. The spirits were still whispering but their voices faded, until Wren could no longer hear them. She felt suddenly trapped, caught in the in between, suspended somewhere between her body and soul. She looked up at the Mother Tree.
‘Help me,’ she heard herself say.
The fire surged, and in the whips of amber and gold, Wren saw a face that looked just like her own. Only it wore a different smile – it was older, surer. Wren recognized the expression from the royal portraits of Anadawn, from the tapestry that hung in her bedroom. It belonged to Ortha Starcrest, the twin sister of Oonagh, who had once ruled the kingdom of Eana with such bravery and loyalty, she gave her life to defend it. Ortha’s smile grew, her ancient eyes full of love. Not just for Wren or Rose, but for the kingdom they had sworn to watch over.
When the tree spoke, Wren knew Ortha’s voice just as surely as she recognized her own. ‘Long have you wished for an end to this darkness, Wren Greenrock. But the weapon you seek has always been within your grasp, forged by a force far greater than even the oldest of magic. You and your sister have fought for each other just as bravely as you have fought for this land. Unceasing, undaunted. The love you and Rose share will reshape this kingdom and fill it with new light, if only you find a way to let it.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Wren, pleadingly. ‘Show me how.’
‘Return to your sister and finish what has already begun.’ Ortha’s voice grew quiet, her face fading into flame. ‘Eana, the first witch, will guide you. As she guides us all, even now.’
‘Wait!’ Wren cried. She wanted to ask how on earth she was supposed to return to her body, but the spirit of Ortha Starcrest had disappeared, leaving only the echo of her words behind. The fire rose with a determined hiss, curling around Wren’s spirit and tugging her back down, into the dark.
Wren blinked to find the world had vanished once more. But even in this strange blackness, this place of nothingness, she was not alone. She could see the thread of her life shimmering faintly before her, entangled now with Rose’s golden strand. Wren reached out, taking hold of them both. They flared beneath her touch, and slowly, softly, the darkness began to flicker.
Eons passed as Wren followed the promise of light. When the flickering yawned into an amber sky, Wren reached for that, too. She heard the crackle of flame and the faraway whisper of wind rustling through the trees. She pushed on, willing herself back to life. Back to Rose. Until at last, she heard her sister stirring beside her.
‘Wren?’ Rose murmured. ‘Are you there?’
Wren opened her eyes to a world of fire and smoke. ‘I’m here, Rose.’ She turned her head, finding her sister’s emerald gaze. She looked just as spent as Wren felt, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips.
‘Welcome back,’ whispered Rose.
Wren’s smile grew to match her sister’s. ‘Let’s finish this.’