Soren Shares the Star-Orchard — Under the oak-scroll branches of the crystal orchard, Soren cupped his candle low and let its amber breath warm the acorns, the moth wings, the cool quartz points smelling faintly of rain. Read the full story →
Under the oak-scroll branches of the crystal orchard, Soren cupped his candle low and let its amber breath warm the acorns, the moth wings, the cool quartz points smelling faintly of rain. Vines kept unrolling above him, leaf by leaf, until each curl seemed to hum with a small silver note. Then a moth settled on his stem, and Soren saw that the crystals were not stones at all, but sleeping stars waiting for someone joyful enough to wake them. His grin widened; the grove brightened with him, and the amber breath became a sky everyone could carry.
