Page 138
We are the smallest, our forces decimated in the first onslaught. But my people have gathered in a tight circle, and their hearts remain unbroken.
I leap off the pegasus and fall to the earth before them on all fours, my body rippling into that of the massive white wolf.
“My beloved people,” I say to them, the wolf’s voice low and guttural. “We must summon all that it means to be Winter. The cool storms, the power of an avalanche, and the calm of the first snow. The beauty of a starlit sky and the camaraderie of folks who gather together against the elements. It all must go to her. Are you with me?”
“We’re with you, Your Highness,” one of the Tundrafolk calls.
“Are you with her?” I roar and throw my head back toward Castletree.
“We are with the Golden Rose!” a soldier right in front of me yells.
That voice… It’s so familiar. I peer closely within the dark blue armor. “Astrid?”
She takes off her helmet. “Here, Your Highness.”
She must have come with the Spring armada and found her way to Winter’s forces.
“What are you doing on the battlefield? You’re no soldier.”
Her red eyes shine up at the heart of Castletree. “No. But neither is she. And Rosalina fights for us. So I fight for her.”
My throat tightens, and all I can do is nod. Turning toward the tree, I bow my body. My paws dig deep into the blood-soaked earth. And I feel it.
The roots of Castletree, extending out not only under the Briar but farther, to all the realms.
We are all connected.
Nearby, I hear the crack of ice, my hold on the enemy slipping. But it’s too late for them.
The realms have united. The plants, the animals, even the stars and moon itself.
I throw back my head and howl. The sound and those of my brothers surge through my chest and fill me with strength like I have never known.
Airaleth is close, and the Gardens of Ithilias fill us with their power.
We are all connected. Every realm. Every season. Every animal. Every fae.
Light glimmers from around the Vale. At first, they look like little droplets of moonlit water. Then they come together, forming beams from each of the seven realms.
All going to her.
The Golden Rose.
Now, my wife, my mate, my love…
It’s up to you.
60
Rosalina
The end.
Only two words, yet more powerful than any others, for they appear in every story.
I hadn’t thought I’d see them on my page yet. But it’s all I can think now as the last of my power drains from me.
My arms keep their strength, wrapped tight around what remains of Sira’s form, but my wings are slowing their flutter, and my light dims. Too much. I’ve given too much. It’s what happened last time. I couldn’t save Castletree.
