Concepts glistened in the air, just waiting to be grabbed with a thought. Answers wrapped in mysteries awaited those caught in the sleeping curse, pulsing with the promise of power and wisdom
Christopher would have been right at home in this sleep, Quartz thought, as he brushed against the concepts, touched the mysteries without being drawn into them. He wasn’t as willing to embrace them in all their glory the way his Fairest or her princess had. He was too enchanted by the song.
Quartz concentrated on its fractured notes; becoming melodic, becoming more and more harmonious as many crystal voices joined the warbling tune, helping it stumble less and less.
It would be so easy to slip into those voices as he’d slipped into crystal coffin and to become one with them. To become the quartz he was named for. To join in the song eternally.
A voice speaks with many voices; all of them somehow familiar in the darkness.
Voice: You could become one with the rocks, leaving behind the little dwarf you are. Perhaps one day, you will. The ones who love you will grieve all the more if you do that. They’re grieving right now.
A vision blooms in the shadows of Nimmie Not, sitting in the sunlight on top of his coffin, kicking his ankles against the side of it. The little man is trying to whistle, but the tune has the same sad, warbling note as the half-healed crystal.
The kobold changes, turning into a human woman with skin white as now and raven hair. She gazes at him from the top of a tower in a castle. A golden-haired girl embraces her, gazing her with clear blue eyes offering unconditional love. His surrogate daughter relaxes in the embrace, tempted to accept the happiness it offers, but unable to look away from him.
The princess changes into Opal, stooped and gray, sitting at a table with all of his brothers looking stooped and gray. Sorrow is heavy upon their brow and shoulders. None of them will look in his direction.
The visions disappear into a single, slitted golden eye, gazing back at it from the darkness.
Voice: There’s a void in your loved ones’s lives, a void they’re waiting for you to fill, even if they cannot admit it. There’s still time for you. Time to spend time with our kobold, your daughter, and your brothers. To heal them all as you are healing this crystal.
Quartz: (recognizing the eye and the voice) Prue, it’s you, isn’t it? What are you doing here?
Prunella: Where fire and rock meet in song, we are always there. We orchestrated the song which tempts you. We had you compose it for us and for the rocks.
Quartz: The song of the crystal, aye. Is it Nimmie Not’s heart?
Prunella: That is for you to decide.
Quartz: Am I healing it?
Prunella: Healing and harming it.
Quartz: What’s that supposed to mean?
Prunella: You’re healing this crystal, but Nimmie Not misses you. Everyone who loves you misses you. They want you to be more than a crystal voice, Quartz.
Quartz: How do I return to whom I was?
Prunella: You don’t. You become whom you’re changing into.
Quartz: Sounds like too much of a riddle for me, Prue.
Prunella: It’s the riddle of living creatures, to be experienced as they develop. Those who fall under the sleeping spell embrace it in a way that’s a mystery to others.
Quartz: Another riddle. Poetic, but doesn’t really explain anything.
Prunella: We are dragon. The explanations we embrace over time are riddles.
Quartz: Aye, I can see that. Let me try asking something else. How do I wake up?
Prunella: By seizing the opportunity when you are ready.
Quartz: Right. Another riddle which tells me nothing.
Prunella: You’ll know, Quartz. When the moment comes, you’ll recognize it.
Quartz: Right. I suppose saying anything more would be a spoiler.
Prunella: We must check our exuberant scribbler from revealing all, lest she allows this Cauldron to boil over. (They let out a snort that stinks of brimstone.)
On the other side of the screen, typing these words, I sniff. It’s my Cauldron, Prue.
Quartz: (chuckling) Aye, we wouldn’t want that.
There’s no need to agree with her, Quartz, although I suppose I should expect you to get snarky.
Prunella: (aware of my scratching at the fourth wall and paying no attention whatsoever) Good luck, Quartz.
The golden eye closes, leaving Quartz in the tantalizing pulse of magical darkness, listening to the crystal’s song.
I, the scribbler mentioned by Prue, wince as I finish writing at how well my characters know me and my weaknesses.
As for you, dear readers, come and meet the daughter Quartz mentioned and the princess who loves her in Fairest…
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