In order to save the world from eternal night, Red must find a way to unlock the dormant power of the Sun Goddess running through her veins without killing herself and everyone she loves.
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The moon was a rheumy eye in the sky, glaring down at the menagerie of companions camping in the shadow of the iron cottage — what was left of it. It looked like a giant had crushed it in its fist, and Gretchen felt an echo of that squeeze around her heart as she extricated herself from the sleepy grasp of the wyvern, who'd somehow felt safe enough to pass out in her lap.
It had been a trial and a delight, to hold Rana for a time; to stroke the wispy strands of sapphire hair back from her face, and marvel in how soft it felt, while it looked sharp enough to cut. Rana had purred like a kitten when Gretchen ran her nails lightly over her scalp, life-force flaring even brighter at the touch.
Little did she know that she truly was as fragile as a kitten, sleeping in the maw of a ravenous beast. It had taken all of Gretchen's will power to resist the heady flow of her energy, to keep from sapping it dry in an instant, leaving only the withered husk of a woman behind.
The longer Gretchen denied the urge, the more it built up, gathering strength and testing the limits of her restraint. Eventually it drove her to her feet, towards the sanctuary of her iron cottage. Only its cold, lifeless walls could interrupt the conduit between her and the living things around her. Her magic was a force of nature that ebbed and flowed of its own accord; a give and take of energy that only she was equipped to survive. Such a magic could only be painstakingly managed, never tamed.
Too well did she know the consequences of leaving it unchecked.
A silver wolf, hunched in the shadow of a skeletal tree, opened a single red eye to watch her pass. The branches were still smoking from the wild fire Red extinguished with a single breath, taking it into her lungs and stoking her soul with the flames.
Now she slept soundly against belly of the silver wolf, though it was hard to say who kept who warm. Red's aura had gone from a subtly glowing ember to a pillar of fire, a beacon that cleaved the very night in two. Gretchen found herself grateful for the overbearing lycan that acted as a barrier between them. She'd taken a liking to Red, who was only meek at first glance; a longer look revealed the sharp edge in her hazel eyes, the head that turned just a fraction sooner than everyone else's when something howled in the distance. Her attention was a subtle and yet piercing thing, like a needle that could stick straight through the heart, the only warning a faint prick and far too late.
Now those quietly calculating eyes were closed. That they had been since midday didn't bode well; Gretchen could only pray that Rya's Blessing hadn't scorched her soul beyond repair. Such wounds were beyond the Earth Mother's ability to heal, and by extension, Gretchen's.
She wandered around the side of the house, taking solemn note of what was left of her gardens. Once luscious and green, filled with vegetables that gorged themselves on the energy Gretchen readily supplied, the soil was blackened and charred, reeking of bitter ash and smouldering death. Gone were the night-flowering jasmines, the wooden wind chimes and the ancient willow tree. Her picnic table was a heap of splintered wood, the colourful koi long-since boiled in the shallow remains of their pond.
