wynn and Sorrel had visited the Reserve several times before, on school trips and during summer and winter vacations. Near the outskirts of the city, the ancient pines stretched taller than all but the highest spires. They invoked a mystic awe that left all visitors quiet in reverence. For hours, she would chase after her sister and explore the forest, taking in the beauty of a forgotten age. Sometimes, Gwynn would even catch a glimpse of animals whose last refuge in the planet were these very woods. 

Even now, covered in ice and snow, it was more beautiful than the rest of Perrault put together. 

There was always a sorrow to the beauty and mysticism of the forest, Gwynn found. It made her wonder what Perrault used to be like—and why it had been destroyed to make the dying port city of the Border Worlds. 

This was all that was left of what Perrault once was. 

Getting to the Reserve was surprisingly easy. Sorrel was a fast flyer. For all her claims the previous night of being no pilot, Gwynn could tell that their father's gift for flight was there. With the hoverboard preventing the making of tracks and its relative silence, it was easy to get past the soldiers in the area. 

Even getting past the tall gates was easier than Gwynn had anticipated. None of the usual guards were out, given the lockdown, so it was only a matter of flying high enough and they were through. 

Once they'd landed in the Reserve, they dismounted the hoverboard and left it behind a tree. The forest was too dense to be traversed that way. 

Coppelius lifted the magic crystal in one hand and waved the other over it. Matching the deep blue of the crystal, a spectral arrow appeared in the air, pointing a tentative direction. 

"Is that a finding spell?" Sorrel asked, bounding up next to him.

"It is, but I have to have a pretty good idea what I'm looking for, for it to work." Coppelius started forward. "Luckily, what we're looking for has a strong aura of magic."

Gwynn bit her lip and said nothing, falling into her usual place as Sorrel's shadow. She could see the sparkle in her twin sister's eyes when she looked at the mysterious stranger. It put a pit in her stomach, the precipice of a free-fall. 

They might be twins, but Sorrel was the younger of the two and she had always been, in a way, her little sister. She always would be. And her little sister was in love with a spacer sorcerer on the run from the law. 

Gwynn wanted nothing more than to grab her sister's arm and run home, leave Coppelius behind and pretend none of this ever happened. 

But she couldn't. Not just because they were in too deep as it was. But it was like they kept telling Coppelius, over and over again. He was someone in trouble, someone who needed help. They were someone who could give it, and were as used to giving as breathing. 

For all her concerns, the doubts she harbored about Coppelius and the chaos he brought, even if Sorrel had nothing to do with any of this, Gwynn knew she would make the same choices. 

"So, what's the aura of this thing like?" Sorrel asked, bounding through the snow after Coppelius as he continued to make a compass of his amulet. "Does it glow or something? Do you have special magic-sight?"

"It's not quite like that." Coppelius stopped as the arrow wobbled. "It's more like a feeling. Have you ever just known something, courtesy of intuition?"

"Yeah." Sorrel stepped beyond Coppelius. "Of course I have."

"It's like that, just a sort of gut feeling." Coppelius frowned. "The thing we're looking for—it's supposed to feel like the sun on a summer's day, like standing a little too close to a fire on a warm night. Not enough to hurt or burn—but enough to remind you of the power of light."

"Wow," Sorrel whispered, and Gwynn could feel her slipping away. 

The arrow turned, pointing to an archway of sorts, formed by two thin ebony trees and a fallen one caught in the branches over the top. 

"I think we're getting closer," Coppelius declared. He didn't look any happier for it. 

They passed under the archway and bounded over a hill to enter a clearing as Coppelius's arrow dissolved. 

A pond stood completely frozen, and partially growing over it was a short, gnarled tree unlike any other in the Reserve. The taller trees had shielded it from snow, and so it somehow held onto its petals of snow-white and rose-red.

Gwynn's breath hitched and Sorrel froze in her tracks. Sorrel turned her head, reaching out a hand to Gwynn. Gwynn instantly understood. 

"What's wrong?" Coppelius turned to the twins. 

"I've seen this before." Sorrel's eyes were wide, fixated on the tree. 

Gwynn accepted her sister's hand, their freckled fingers entwined. "Only in dreams, though."

Coppelius's own eyes widened. "Have you ever dreamed before of other places and times, with the lingering certainty that what you saw was true?" 

"Yes." Gwynn found herself speaking. "Both of us have. Or at least, I used to."

"I still sometimes do," Sorrel added. She then frowned. "Is this what you were talking about, the auras? Because I think I can feel it. Not like what you described—but there's something here."

"I think it is." Coppelius returned his eyes to the tree. "But you're right—something's wrong."

A finger hovered over his chin. "I can't tell what it is, though."

Sorrel looked to Gwynn, a silent plea in her big brown eyes, a sudden vulnerability. What do we do?

In the face of her sister's dawning terror, Gwynn knew there was only one thing they could do. 

"We continue forward, then. We can't stop now." 

At that, as if in a trance, Sorrel walked towards it, reaching out for the symbol carved onto the tree. Only to stop a foot shy and retract her hand. 

Gwynn joined her sister at her side, and she took Sorrel's hand once more. They exchanged a look, and Gwynn knew that they both knew there was no room for misgivings or turning back. 

They nodded, and touched the trunk at the same time. 

Starting in the carved symbol and flowing through the grooves of the bark, a golden light filled the tree, and Gwynn felt a spark awaken inside of her. It had always been there, she realized. But now she was aware of it, and nearly exploding with this energy. She could even see a faint glow around Sorrel's skin. The ground rumbled beneath them, and the mark shone with all the brilliance of the sun.

When Gwynn could see again, there was an open hollow in the center of the tree. Sitting there was a crystal blade, the color of grass in the springtime just after the rain. It was set in a fine golden hilt and glowed the same way Coppelius's crystal did. 

Sorrel reached for the hilt of the blade, her eyes fixed on the blade and strangely blank. 

"I never thought I'd see my father's sword again." 

Sorrel stopped, and both she and Gwynn turned to see Coppelius approach. He looked disappointed by the miracle before them.

"Isn't this what we were looking for?" Sorrel's voice warbled. 

"I still wouldn't want this to fall in the wrong hands." Coppelius stepped between the sisters and drew the sword. "But I'd hoped to find my father here instead."

"Your father—" Gwynn's brain was whirring. "You said that there would be an explanation. Now's the time. What's this tree, this sword, your father—"

Coppelius turned back to Gwynn. "You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know though if now's the time—"

"No." Gwynn looked to her sister, to the dazzled look in her eyes. "We've put everything on the line to help you. There are unconscious soldiers in our home, there's a blockade around our planet, and you're at the center of all of it. The time for secrets is over. It's time to tell us what in the stars above is going on."

"I—" Coppelius began to stammer, a sorrowful shadow crossing over his face. "I—"

Before he could form a coherent answer, he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow and the hum of electricity. 

"Sorry to interrupt, but this ends here."