The chill bit, even through Gwen’s gloves. Frost orchids. Not the pale, brittle kind you found clinging to dying branches, but shimmering, almost *alive* with an inner light. Each petal pulsed with a lavender glow, mirroring the bruised twilight sky. She dug carefully, roots tangled like silver wire. They weren’t supposed to *grow* here, not this far south.
“Seriously? More of those things?” Maya’s voice sliced through the stillness. She stomped closer, boots crunching on the frozen ground. “You’ve got a whole garden of ghosts blooming, Gwen. It’s creepy.”
“They’re beautiful,” Gwen mumbled, carefully transferring one to the padded box. The delicate stem felt strangely warm against her skin.
“Beautiful and…weird. Like something out of a fairytale your grandmother told. Remember the ones about the ice queen and the lost prince?” Chloe’s breath puffed out in white clouds. She leaned over, squinting. “Are you sure you should be messing with those? They look…dangerous.”
“Dangerous? They’re flowers, Chloe.” Gwen clipped a root, the snap echoing in the crisp air.
“You know what *else* feels dangerous? The deadline for those Bright Future scholarships. Applications are due Friday, and you haven’t even started your essay.” Maya gestured emphatically with a half-eaten granola bar. “Everyone says this one could change everything. A full ride, Gwen! *Everything*.”
Gwen flinched. Scholarship applications. Another weight pressing down, another reminder of expectations.
“Don’t act like you don’t care,” Chloe chided, nudging her shoulder. “You’ve been obsessed with these orchids for weeks. Avoiding reality, maybe?”
“I just need…a break,” Gwen said, but the words sounded hollow.
“A break from a future you worked your whole life for? Come on.” Maya’s voice softened. “Look, we get it. Your mom wanted this for you. The whole town expects it. But you need to *apply*, Gwen. You have to.”
Gwen ignored her, focused on the orchid’s intricate structure. The petals weren’t just reflecting light—they *contained* it. The plant throbbed with a faint rhythm, a heartbeat buried within the frost.
“I found something,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.
“Another weird flower? Great,” Chloe deadpanned.
Gwen shook her head, carefully brushing away the remaining dirt around the orchid’s base. It wasn’t another flower. It was a stone. Small, obsidian black, etched with symbols that twisted and blurred before her eyes.
“What is that?” Maya asked, peering closer.
Gwen reached for it, her fingers tingling. As her skin touched the stone’s surface, a jolt surged through her. Not pain, but a flood of images. Not memories, but *lives*. Faces flashed—ancient, regal, desperate. Voices echoed—a chorus of longing and fear. The world around her dissolved into swirling colors.
“Gwen!” Chloe’s voice cracked through the chaos. “Are you okay?”
Gwen stumbled back, gasping. The stone lay cool in her palm, the visions vanished. But something had shifted. The air tasted different. The trees seemed taller, older. And she knew, with chilling certainty, that the frost orchids hadn’t just bloomed on their own. They’d been *waiting*.
“I think,” she said, her voice raspy, “we just found a whole lot more than flowers.”
