Chapter 30 Illusion
Illusion
Aurora had been right to worry about the woods, for she received a letter from Elsie the next day informing her that the candy stripe phlox behind their home was once again turning gray.
Aurora had not considered the glare line when she had asked Caspian to marry her, but she took comfort in knowing that a line was now forming between the cottage and the castle, offering at least some protection from the Frost. Her family would be safe when they were indoors, but the line needed time to soak into the land and protect their crops.
When Evander had married, his line had been complete within a fortnight, and Aurora hoped it would be the same for hers.
She had written to Elsie and told her to be patient, hinting at something wonderful, but she wanted to wait to share the news in person.
That day had arrived, and Aurora was eager to see her family.
After they pulled the light over Reverie, she and Caspian got back in the sleigh, and the snow deer took them past the village, toward the dark woods that sat at the base of the peaks.
“Do you think we will ever be rid of the Frost?” Aurora asked Caspian, her hand tucked in his.
“Ever is a rather long time,” he replied, but she could tell he was pondering it.
“I do believe we’ll be rid of it. It formed because of an unimaginable cold that gripped the mountain before the Sun made herself human, but one day, there will be enough Starmakers buried in the land to fend off the cold that the Frost needs to survive. ”
He paused, and Aurora wondered if he was thinking of what he’d told her that first night at the castle: There will be no rest for you. Not even in death.
Aurora thought his hand tensed slightly around hers, but she could have been imagining it. She hoped she was.
The snow deer slowed as Aurora’s cottage came into view, and her worries faded as the door opened and Elsie ran outside. Aurora jumped from the sleigh to greet her sister, hugging her tightly, then waited for Caspian to join her. They walked inside together.
Mama rushed over and kissed Aurora on the cheek, and Aspen came in a moment later, dropping firewood on the hearth and taking Aurora in his arms.
“It is good to see you, sister,” he said, and Aurora hugged him tightly.
“And you.”
Aspen greeted Caspian as well, and Mama offered them tea.
When everyone had a steaming cup in front of them, Aurora took Caspian’s hand.
“We have something to tell you,” she said, surprised when her voice shook with emotion.
She cleared her throat and slipped off her glove, holding out her hand for her family to see.
Mama jumped up from her seat, looking first at Aurora and then back to the ring, her eyes filling with tears. “When?” she asked.
“Three nights ago,” Caspian said, squeezing Aurora’s hand. “You may be surprised to hear that it was your daughter’s idea.”
“A rather good one, I’d say,” Elsie exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Aurora.
“I tend to agree with you,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips, and it filled Aurora with warmth, seeing him joke with her family.
Then Elsie threw her arms around Caspian’s neck, and Aurora couldn’t keep her tears at bay.
A look of surprise crossed his face, and he tensed up, but then he slowly relaxed and patted her on the back.
Aspen shook Caspian’s hand and congratulated them both, and then the front door opened and Evander and Samuel walked in. “Surprise!” Evander said.
Aurora ran to him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight, then did the same to Samuel. “What are you doing here?”
“Elsie wrote to us, letting us know of your upcoming visit. I hated not being able to see you off, but at least I’m here now,” Samuel said, winking at Aurora.
“Then this is the perfect opportunity to introduce you to my husband,” Aurora said, her voice catching on the last word. The word seemed to have a similar effect on Caspian, and for a single breath, they looked at each other, the rest of the room fading away.
“Husband?” Samuel asked, pulling Aurora out of her reverie. She excitedly nodded and recounted the ceremony, telling them about the moonlight and the priest and the palpable happiness that had bloomed in her chest.
“Welcome to our family,” Mama said, and Aurora watched Caspian, who looked away, whispering the word family under his breath as if he couldn’t remember what the word meant.
Then he nodded and, with a heavy voice, said, “Thank you.”
Aurora wanted to stay the whole day, to help Mama with dinner and set the table and hear about all the things she had missed since moving to the castle, but they still had to monitor the forests, and so she reluctantly said goodbye to her family and promised to visit again soon.
As the sleigh pulled away from the cottage, Aurora noticed that Evander and Samuel were still inside, and she smiled to herself.
Soon the home was out of view, and the snow deer pulled them closer to the dark woods.
Even at a distance, Aurora could see a break in the border of pink petals, but phlox was particularly sensitive to the Frost, and she hoped it was nothing more than an early warning sign, something she and Caspian could easily heed.
The snow deer came to a stop when they reached the edge of the trees.
Caspian took his time getting out of the sleigh, and Aurora pretended not to notice, jumping down to the snowy earth and following behind him.
He was in good spirits, and Aurora was trying her best not to analyze his every movement, his every step, to make sure he would not die today—that was a certain way to sour his mood.
Caspian had told her many times that he could not die until they performed the ritual that would transfer his remaining magic to her, but Aurora worried for him still.
They both stopped when they reached the phlox, surveying the flowers that stretched out in either direction.
Aurora brought her hand to her mouth, unable to speak.
Patches of gray were everywhere, not just at the farthest reaches of the forest but closer to the village as well.
She gently took a bloom in her hands, studying it.
It was completely devoid of color, looking as if it belonged in a charcoal drawing, not in vibrant Reverie.
It reminded her of the one she had seen in the ruins, and she shivered.
“What is happening?” she asked quietly, keeping her voice down as if everyone in the village might hear her.
Caspian didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked farther into the woods, inspecting the forest floor, running his fingers over bark, feeling the needles on branches as if he spoke a language that only he and the trees understood.
It was beautiful to watch, and Aurora followed close behind him, trying to learn as much as she could.
After they had walked for what felt like hours, Caspian sat beneath a large pine, leaning his back against its trunk and closing his eyes. He looked pained, and Aurora knelt down beside him.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked.
“I am fine,” he replied, keeping his eyes closed. “The trees, however, are not.”
“But we are pulling the light each day,” Aurora said. “And while we could have been more vigilant with our patrols, surely we didn’t miss so many that the Frost was able to advance this much.”
Caspian opened his eyes, staring into the distance as understanding crossed his face. He shook his head slightly, and his expression settled into one that was grim and tense.
“What is it?” Aurora asked. Her heart sped up, and her chest ached as she waited for his response.
He rocked forward onto his knees and set his hands on the earth.
The canopy above was covered in snow, but the ground was clear, and as the Frost mostly kept to the depths of the forest, the soil here was untouched.
“How does the Sun know to choose a new Starmaker?” he asked, so quietly she wasn’t sure if he actually wanted her to answer. He got up and began surveying the trees again, every step deliberate.
“Please tell me what you’re thinking,” Aurora begged, unable to handle the unease stirring in her gut.
Caspian stopped and turned to face her. “She chooses a new Starmaker when the land requires it.”
“What does that mean?”
“The bodies of the previous Starmakers protect against the Frost, and the living Starmaker pulls in the light.” Caspian paused, dire determination on his face. “I have let this go on for too long.”
It wasn’t his fault, though. Pulling the light had become a frustrating dance in which Caspian tried to give her his remaining magic—the ritual that would complete Aurora’s transition to Starmaker—and Aurora staunchly refused it.
The trial had proven to her that she could carry the entirety of the light on her own, but until all of Caspian’s magic was in her veins, he would not die.
It had been difficult to reject what little power he had left, but she had done it, and he was still here with her. If anything, she was the one to blame.
“I don’t understand,” Aurora said, almost pleading. “Surely one Starmaker cannot make such a difference?” She felt hopeless, and she racked her brain for another solution, anything to give them more time.
“Four Starmakers. I will be the fourth, and the magic in the land is much more potent when properly fed.”
“Fed?”
“The mountain needs another body,” Caspian said, and Aurora looked at him in disgust. “I concede that was a poor choice of words, but the point stands. Once all of my magic is transferred to you, my body will still be covered in the remnants of it the way tea stains the inside of a pot. It won’t be nearly enough to pull the light, but it will be enough to give the land what it needs.
When I am buried, those remnants will seep into the earth and fight the Frost.”
Aurora sighed, looking out into the vast woods, knowing there was nothing more to be done.