Mourning Star

The girls froze, then scattered the moment they locked eyes with me. Flowers fell from their hands as they bolted through the lantern-lit streets, laughter dying in their throats. I had only wanted to accompany them. For safety, of course.

It didn’t matter.

Let them play without protection.

I found my way to a neighboring roof and let my legs dangle.

I'd keep watch from up here.

Laughter resumed as they darted between barrels and flower stalls, all of them searching for the same thing—a blossom rumored to bloom only once a year on the summer solstice. I peeked over the ledge as they ran around a corner out of sight.

A faint glow flickered to my right.

I turned. A small blue light hovered in the air beside the chimney.

“A wisp,” I gasped.

It pulsed as if in confirmation, then disappeared. Rising, I balanced along the steep ridge of the roof overlooking the market. The glow flickered again, now several feet away, heading toward the forest. I made my way to the end of the roof and leapt. Shadows curled around me, slowing my descent. My boots hit the stone courtyard, and I straightened just in time to see the wisp hovering a few paces away.

Then it shot over the bridge toward the Whispering Woods.

I barreled after it.

The wisp flew between trees, its pale glow flashing through the dark like a falling star. I lost it only once before the light reappeared in a clearing at the top of the hill.

I sprinted toward it—then slammed hard into something solid. Shadows surged upward, catching me before I hit the ground. Wide emerald eyes met mine.

I pushed the girl away as the shadows released their grip.

She stumbled back, hair tumbling into her face. She shoved it aside and immediately began scanning the ground around us. Following her gaze, I saw it.

The flower.

It glowed in the grass between us, its petals still closed. I hurtled for it. The girl was faster. She tackled me to the ground, knocking the air from me, and pinned my arms beneath her knees before I could react.

What in the bloody moon?

“Are you really going to fight me for a flower?” she asked dryly.

I didn’t answer. I had years of training over this girl.

With a sharp movement, I jerked one leg up, wrapping it around her body, then twisted, slamming her to the ground. I sprang to my feet and steadied my stance for another strike. The girl did not waste a second rolling to her feet in time with me. The flower now trapped in the space between us.

“It’s not about the flower,” I said calmly, brushing dirt from my sleeve and straightening. “Do you know who you are challenging?”

The girl only smirked.

“I don’t care. It’s mine.”

Before I could respond, she dove headfirst toward the flower. I lunged. We collided again, both reaching for the glowing bud. Her fingers closed around the stem. The flower blazed brighter. My hand locked over hers before I could pull away. The flower bloomed beneath our grip as light burst around us.

We froze.

Dozens of wisps drifted into the clearing, pale blue lights rising from the forest floor. The girl stared up at them. “What are they?” she whispered.

“Wisps.”

She looked back at me. “They led me here.”

“Me too,” I admitted.

Then I realized I was still holding her hand and quickly let go.

She stood, dirt staining her knees, but she didn’t brush it away.

The flower continued to glow in her hands.

Her eyes roamed me over and I straightened on instinct, lifting my chin.

She stepped closer. Another step, and I noticed the freckles making constellations across her dark skin. Without warning, she reached up and tucked the glowing bloom into my hair. An unfamiliar rhythm pounded inside my chest.

“There,” she said with a smile.

I blinked. “What are you doing?”

“You deserve to enjoy what you fought for.”

I touched the petals resting against my temple and pulled the flower free, wanting to admire it. The glow faded until it became an ordinary red blossom.

A heaviness settled in my chest at the loss of its light. Suddenly, I had the strange urge to cry.

The girl grabbed the flower. It began to glow again. Then she threw it into the darkness.

Silence settled over the clearing.

The wisps drifted lower, circling us.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

She looked at the wisps, hovering just above our heads.

“It’s prettier in the dark,” she said, smiling at me. “Don’t you think?”

I ground my teeth together to keep the emotion from showing.

She lay down and patted the grass beside her. After a moment, I sat too. I nearly hit her head as I leaned back, our hair tangling.

“If not for the dark, we wouldn’t admire the light,” she said, watching the specks of flickering blue above us.

I thought about that for a moment and wondered if the darkness that clung to me had something to do with bringing her here.

“They say—” I began, then stopped, debating if the myth would scare her away.

Her eyes met mine. It wouldn’t.

“They say wisps are omens—” I glanced at her again. “Of people who end the world… or those whose world will end.”

She let out a loud, careless laugh.

“That’s dramatic.”

I stared at her for a moment, then, to my surprise, I laughed too. The first time in years.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

My stomach fell. I liked this. Not having a name. Not being feared.

I turned my gaze back to the sky. “I am Star.”

She giggled. “Okay, if you're Star… then I'm Tuga.”

I grinned back. “Tuga?”

She shrugged. “If we’re making up silly names.”

I only smiled harder.

The wisps flickered once more, then slowly drifted back into the forest.

But one lingered longer than the rest, hovering above us.

I timidly reached toward it, the wisp swayed back, and I tucked my hand to my chest.

Tuga glanced over, and I met her gaze, our breath mingling in the misty air.

Gently, she took my hand and guided it toward the glowing light.

And as the first ray of morning touched the trees, the wisp dissolved into our joined hands.