Page 140 of Crowned By Roses

I believe in you, Petal. We all do.

This is just a different arena, Blossom! Keep fighting!

Sweetheart, you’re glowing like starlight.

My breath comes in ragged gasps. They’re within me. Every one.

You’re not alone, Kel’s voice says, rising above the others.

We’re with you until the end, Caspian joins.

Then I hear my mother’s words, strong and bright: The Vale stands with you, Rosalina.

I open my eyes, letting their brightness into my own body. Sira’s screaming face is right in front of me.

“Who are they? Get them out! Get them out!”

“Every root,” I say. “Every animal. Every fae. We are all Castletree.”

“No!” she screams.

The Vale’s heartbeats are thunder in my chest. I push out the energy, drawing it through Castletree. The strength of the seasons, their blessings and their curses, their calm and their storms—it all rushes through me and out.

I am everything that has ever made up the Enchanted Vale and everything that will ever make it up. It pulses through me. Now I am the heart of the Vale.

And I won’t stop beating.

One more voice rises above the chorus. I love you, my father says.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Thousands of voices of love sing through my blood. Love. This is the answer to healing Castletree. And my heart is strong enough to carry it all.

Light explodes around us. It’s white-hot, bursting like a falling moon and a star shower all at once. I hold Sira tighter in my arms. She lets loose a cry that turns to a sob, then to a whimper.

The light dims.

I blink. The giant tree branch limbs retract. Stone crumbles down hundreds of feet. The wood twists in on itself, becoming roots that return to the earth.

Sira’s monstrosity is crumbling. The bark that encased most of her body retreats. Her eyes are shut, her head lolled back. What once were black leaves return to her silky hair. She’s smaller than I thought, willowy even. My mother always loved willow trees.

Without the tree to encase her, Sira begins to fall. I hug her tight to my body, then scoop her into my arms, wings fluttering to keep us afloat. Slowly, I start my descent.

Out on the battlefield, our soldiers stare at me. Ice sculptures decorate the grounds, frozen minions of Sira’s. Some begin to crack free of their imprisonments.

Down below, Castletree has withered to blackened roots, sinking into newly upturned dirt.

That’s where I carry Sira. Not to the rubble but to the fresh earth.

The kind of earth where beautiful things grow.

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