Chapter 49 Wren
As Oonagh slumped against the Mother Tree, the tear slipped from her cheek and fell to the earth, disappearing into the soil. The ground thumped as it melted into the roots of the Mother Tree, as though the very heart of Eana were beating beneath them.
All at once, the ring of flames winked out, the fire falling away until only the branches of the great tree burned.
‘Look,’ said Rose, squeezing Wren’s hand. Wren tipped her head back, following her sister’s gaze. There, in the crown of flames, was the shape of two girls, standing hand in hand. For a heartbeat, Wren thought it was their own fiery reflection gazing back at them, but there was a voice in the inferno that did not belong to Rose or Wren.
No, not one voice. But two.
‘As sorrow falls upon the tree,
A broken soul is finally free,
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
Our spirits soar on this new gust.’
‘It’s Ortha and Oonagh,’ said Rose, in a whisper. ‘They found each other.’ At that, a warm wind stole up from the roots of the Mother Tree, quelling the flames that danced along its branches and scattering the vision of the Starcrest sisters. The wind travelled over the trees then, gathering up the glowing seeds that lingered there and carrying them east towards the sea, and the moonlit horizon beyond.
When Wren looked down, the body of Oonagh Starcrest had dissolved into the earth, the ashes of her bones joining her sister’s body in the ancient roots of the tree. Only the sword and dagger remained, Night’s Edge and Daybreak, so clean Wren could see her reflection in them.
The Mother Tree sighed, and Wren felt the same relief lifting in her heart. She watched the branches reach up to the sky, growing and twisting as though to touch the moon. The trunk swelled until the enormous tree was almost twice the size as before. It towered over them, bursting into life. New leaves sprouted that were pillowy and green, and within them, tiny flowers of every colour bloomed until Wren was sure she had never before seen anything more beautiful or full of magic.
For the first time in her life, she found she could look upon the Mother Tree not with sadness but with joy. With hope.
Rose plucked Daybreak from the ground and held it to her chest. ‘It’s finally over, isn’t it?’ she said, as tears ran down her cheeks.
Wren nodded as she picked up Night’s Edge. ‘It’s really over, Rose.’
‘Well. Almost.’ They both turned around at the sound of Celeste’s voice. She was standing where the ring of fire had just been and wearing a look of such sadness, Wren’s heart sank all over again. Just behind Celeste, under the soft light of a melancholic moon, the surviving soldiers and witches were coming through the trees, carrying their dead.