Briar Rose

Warnings: violence, death, depression, anxiety

A thin layer of dust covered everything, as though snow had fallen. Briar sat up in bed, taking a deep breath, she coughed as dust filled her lungs, and she rubbed her eyes. Briar looked back down at her bed, unwelcoming now that it was covered in a hundred years’ worth of dust and grime. In the dust was a perfect outline of her silhouette, one could even see the curls of her hair outlined on her grimy pillowcase. Briar had thought the robots would clean while they slept, apparently, they had skipped her quadrant.

The announcement was made in the summer, on the last day of school. Briar hadn’t been paying much attention, letting her eyes droop shut beneath her screen halo when a red notification flashed up before her half-closed lids:

“The Aurora Act has Passed. Please Stay tuned for a public briefing”, the message had reverberated through the class, causing a tidal wave of conversation. Briar could feel a tightening in her heart. Unlike her classmates, Briar stayed silent, desperately aware of her heartbeat. The teacher immediately flicked on the wall monitor, not bothering to silence the class, she understood their anxiety, everyone did. The Aurora Act was a drastic environmental measure, forcing everyone to take a potent sedative that allowed the human body to go into a hybrid hibernation/comatose state. The idea behind it was that if the earth was left untouched by humans for 100 years, then perhaps, with the help of robots deemed “Ever Afters” by the government in a vain attempt to stay “on theme”, things would return to a state that could handle human life. Though drastic, the state of the environment had only gotten worse over the years, gas masks were required outdoor wear and indoor as well if your walls weren’t the recommended thickness to keep the deadly smog from your lungs. Acid rain was more and more frequent and natural disasters were a daily occurrence. Millions had lost their homes, including several of Briar’s cousins, who had sought refuge in her home only a year ago when a tornado had torn their house apart, scattering the pieces into oblivion.

Briar felt numb watching the High Elders express their reasons for passing the act, sighting the destruction humans had caused to the earth and the resulting disasters that had ensued. Whenever images like this graced Briar’s wall monitor at home, Briar’s mother turned serious and said to her:

“Whatever harm you do to mother nature, she will return it to you ten-fold.”

“…the world’s top scientists and their family members that choose to, will be awake for the 100 years that we are asleep, and their backup clones will be cryogenically frozen to be awoken when needed and implanted with their memories.”

The High Elders dodged around the subject of death when it came to The Aurora Act, but everyone knew that there was only an 80% chance you would wake from the Spindle Sedative. Still, humanity would be wiped out in only fifty years should the world continue like this. Briar trusted the sedative and believed in the cause, but when faced with the reality of sleeping for 100 years and the possibility of waking up only to have lost the ones she loved, it sent a chill down her spine. She remembered her mother’s words again, sweet and soothing like the honey Briar helped her to collect each morning:

“The planet is the most important gift we’ve been given, and it’s up to us to take care of it.”

Bees were rare, scientists were surprised they still existed at all. Bee farmers were rarer. Despite the slow decline of the bee population, Briar’s mother had managed to keep a thriving bee farm for as long as Briar could remember. It came with good money too, and when her father quit his job to start his own home-repair business, it had kept them afloat for the two years needed for her father to get his business off the ground.

Her father had been unsure about quitting his job and going at things on his own. It had been a rough two years. When he wasn’t locked in his office or making house calls, he was seeing a therapist to help control his anxiety and simmering depression. Most of his symptoms were sheltered from Briar, but she still saw the irritability, the tiredness, the nervous energy, the pacing, the constant worrying, and the tears. On one of his better days, he took her to his favorite Nature Realm. The Nature Realm had been compiled and put in a dome on the day Briar was born. Her mother and father had donated money to fund its construction as an anniversary gift to each other the year before Briar’s birth. This was one of the only Nature Realms to house and protect thickets and briars as well as the animals that lived there. This Nature Realm housed fairer plants as well, but the briars were its claim to fame.

“You’re tough,” her father had always said. “Like a briar, but you’re sweet too, like a rose.”

Briar’s father was silent that day. They walked along the path, birds chirped at them from beyond the fence, the occasional robin following behind, hoping the two had purchased seeds at the ticket counter. Briar stopped at the butterfly section, laughing as a monarch’s wing kissed her cheek. A stark contrast to the environment outside the walls of the Nature Realm. While the advanced greenhouse was home to brambles, bunnies, and butterflies, Briar’s home was built of concrete and glass. Sure, there were trees and bushes, but only in places where the city planners allowed them to be. Briar’s world was not one of flora and fauna but of ferrous and filth.

“Magical, isn’t it? Life.” Briar’s father mused, letting a blue-winged butterfly land on his shoulder. “You must protect life Briar, no matter the cost.”

“Protect life, protect yourselves, protect each other,” one of the High Elders stated from the wall monitor, reiterating the catchphrase for The Aurora Act.

That night, her parents tucked her in. They acted as though everything was normal, and they would wake up to the same world in which they’d fallen asleep. It was comforting. It took her mind off what going to sleep would mean. Her dad kissed her on the forehead and whispered that he loved her before leaving to prepare the house for their long sleep. Briar’s mother sat at the edge of the bed and opened the Volume of Ancient and Magical Texts. It was an old leather-bound copy from generations before Briar, but she still enjoyed the stories as much as any other child. It reminded her of their land’s magical heritage. She secretly hoped that the statues of magical and mythic creatures in the nooks and crannies of every quadrant would someday be more than old stories but that they might come back and bestow their magic upon the land once again. Perhaps after she awoke…

“What story would you like tonight my Sweet Rose?” Her mother asked, interrupting her musings.

“I want to hear the story of the pomegranate seed.”

“We haven’t read that one in a while, did daddy take you past the Church of Persephone today?”

Briar nodded. “We got some pomegranate juice as a special treat.”

Her mother smiled. “It is amazing how much still thrives in the environment we have created,” she mused, almost to herself. “Are you snuggled in tight?” She asked Briar, thumbing through the pages of the ancient text.

Briar nodded.

“Okay,” her mother kissed her forehead and Briar closed her eyes, letting her mother’s words wash over her. “Once Upon a Time, on a day when the Underworld nudges against the Upperworld, a set of twins go to visit their mother and grandmother in the Underworld. They take the river Styx down into Hades’ realm with the help of the Moonlight Fairies. The Moonlight Fairies lead them to the Field of Remembrance, which only appears on this day. In the field, they find their grandmother and mother. The reunited family dances the night away, singing and laughing as though tomorrow will never come. When the cool colors of dawn begin to seep into the underworld, the twins bid their mother and grandmother goodbye and start their journey home. But before they even step foot outside of the Field of Remembrance, Hades appears before them. His eyes flash, going from red to green to silver and inciting fear into the hearts of the twins.

‘One of you has eaten the fruits from my kingdom and now belongs to me!’ Hades bellows, eyeing the twins suspiciously.

“The twins look at each other, and one steps forward, displaying her hands, which are stained with the juice of the Underworld’s fruit.

‘Come with me,’ Hades commands the twin with the stained fingers. ‘You will never see your sister again.’

“Suddenly, a gentle breeze and the scent of cinnamon and sunshine fills the air. Persephone appears. She steps forward, clutching the arm of Hades. ‘Please, my love, have mercy. Let the children visit each other at this time each year, just before the sun overtakes the moon. At the entrance of the Underworld.’

“Hades scoffs. ‘And why would I do that?’

‘Because I made the same mistake,’ Persephone touches Hades’ cheek and the twins turn away as the gods embraced.

‘Fine,’ Hades grumbles. ‘I will allow you to visit each other only on this day at the entrance to the underworld just before the sun overtakes the moon.’

“So, on that day, each year, the twins meet at the portal of the underworld just before the sun overtake the moon. The twin that now lives in the Underworld will always bring a fruit from Persephone’s Garden to share with the twin from the Upperworld. Now, both the twins reside in the Underworld, but where they used to meet the fruits of the underworld grow, and that is how we can now taste the sweet juices of the pomegranate.”

Sleep weighed heavy on Briar’s eyes as her mother closed the leather-bound book and kissed her on the cheek.

A thin layer of dust covered her hands, which were longer than expected, and slenderer. Briar flicked the covers off herself, a cloud of dust causing her to sneeze. She stood up shakily for a few moments before settling on the floor. They said the serum would help with waking up, but nothing about the long legs she had acquired during her nap. She stumbled to her feet again and looked down at herself, what used to be loose, comfortable pajamas had become tight on her body, hugging curves that had appeared during her rest. The High Elders had assured everyone that the serum wouldn’t necessarily stop aging, but it would slow it significantly. Briar had gone to bed a 12-year-old and woken up a 16-year-old. Briar had no idea if she was supposed to wake up having aged 5 years, but that wasn’t the important part. The important part was that she was awake. Briar opened the door and tiptoed down the short hallway to her parents’ room. She entered quietly, the lights flickering on as she grazed her hands along the wall-pad. They were still sleeping. Surely that was wrong. If she’s been awoken, they must have too. The Ever Afters must have given her the Kiss serum, the one that was supposed to be distributed to each quadrant around the world after 100 years. If she was awake her parents had to be. They must be. Briar reached forward and put two fingers beneath her mother’s nose, barely an inch away from her skin. Briar wanted to touch them so badly, to shake them awake so they could see the world with her. But she knew she couldn’t. The Aurora Act Stated that only the Kiss serum could awaken the slumbering, and any mode of disruption or jostling could cause catastrophic side-effects to the sleeping. A delicate rush of air touched her fingers and Briar let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Briar refused to let a tear escape her eye because they’re fine, they were just sleeping. Peaceful.

“I will wake you,” she promised them.

Obviously, the Ever Afters had malfunctioned. Well, she would just have to get the serum herself, even if she had to pry one open. Briar wiped the dust away from the door scanner before placing her hand against it. It beeped pleasantly and the door slid open.

Briar took a step back, horrified and amazed by what lay before her. A thicket of sweet briars stretched out before her, green and luscious with beautiful pink blossoms clustered on every branch. If Briar hadn’t known better, she would’ve leaped forward into the forest, but she knew how deceptive her namesake could be, for underneath the lush greenery and thick branches lay needle-sharp barbs ready to dig into her skin like fairy teeth. Briar popped her neck and squared her shoulders. She was glad to see that nature had returned, but she’d made a vow. Protect life. And right now, that meant hers and her families’. She would not harm the briars, but she would not let them harm her either.

***

The briars were ruthless, they tugged and pulled at her mother’s beekeeper’s uniform as though it was made of parchment. Briar hadn’t known how strong nature was, she’d always looked at it in its tamed form, its palatable roughness. Feeling the briars cut across her skin while the scent of apples coated her tongue and made her mouth water for something she’d only tasted a few times a year, Briar formed a respect she had never felt towards the briars she had seen in the Nature Realm. She felt clumsy compared to them, unable to navigate the world around her. Her legs and arms were longer, causing her to trip over her own feet while her arms got tangled in branches. She took up more space than she had before. Places into which she could have crawled were too small, and the brambles reminded her of this at every turn, digging into her thighs and shoulders as if to remind her of what the Spindle Sedative had taken away.

“Please, brambles,” Briar begged. “Please, I give you no harm, I only wish for guidance.”

Briar did not think the briars, or the flowers for that matter, would heed her plea, let alone understand it, but maybe someone else would. Maybe others were awake like her. Suddenly, the briars parted before her, opening into a clearing. Briar didn’t move, too surprised to do anything but stare at her feet, which were clear of branches. The brambles must have grown impatient with her, for she felt a push from behind and she stumbled into the clearing. When she turned, the opening had disappeared.

“Hello,” An airy, echoing voice greeted Briar.

Briar turned, gazing at the life-sized hologram before her. The woman had three faces, one was young, the face of youthfulness at its prime, the middle face was mature, and the third was that of a wise old woman, with knowledge seeped into every wrinkle. Her coloring and features shifted and changed slightly every few seconds so that it was almost hard to look at her.

“Child,” the woman spoke in three voices. “I have been looking for one with a kind heart like yours. I am Hecate, the mother of magic, the child of fantasy, and the crone of creation. Strange magic has awoken since your kind slumbered.”

Briar blinked. Their world was built on ancient magic, the High Elders constantly reminded them of this, but it had turned into a religion, old gods, fairies, and other mythical beings were worshipped instead of seen in the woods or danced with under the night sky. And with nature slowly disappearing, magic had turned into old fantasies read to children by firelight and immortalized in statues, cathedrals, temples, and monuments. The idea of having magic returned to the world, to experience it, sent a thrilling tingle up her spine.

“I can sense your excitement, but remember, child, the old ways are not roses without thorns. There is a correct path you must take,” the cryptic sentence was said with a smile. The smile quickly faded as the briars pressed in closer, now almost grazing Briar’s back. “We haven’t much time. I have harnessed this device to speak with you, for there is not enough magic for me to return in my full form. Child, you are one of the only awake.” Briar’s blood ran cold; what had happened to everyone? “Do not ask me why, the magic works in ways even I cannot always predict. Perhaps it is your kind, child-like heart, or your feminine attunement with nature in all its tranquility and wildness. Whatever the reason, your purpose is to awaken the world. Through this path, there is a well. You will find answers and challenges there.” Hecate’s hologram disappeared in the blink of an eye and Briar felt thorns digging into her back, the clearing was closing. Briar could see the path leading to the well, she dashed towards the pathway, the brambles catching her legs with each step. She found her footing on the bramble-bear path just as the brambles closed behind her, leaving a log jagged scrape on the back of her hand. Briar winced and gritted her teeth but refused to let the pain slow her down. The world was depending on her.

The path was short and led to a small opening with an old-fashioned brick well in the center. The well had a metal top, but no bucket dangled from under the roof, instead, there was a large pink seashell with a small note in the center saying:

“Drink from me for a wish,”

Without hesitation and worried the brambles would close in on her again, Briar scooped the well water up with the shell and took a long gulp from it. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she’d been until the water slid down her throat. The serum would keep you hydrated for up to 24 hours after awakening, but if you could get water or food before that you would be better for it.

No sooner had Briar set down the shell than three heads bobbed up from the surface of the well, beaming at her with slimy teeth. Their stringy hair spread through the water like jellyfish legs. Briar took a step back, fear creeping into her heart.

“We’ve been waiting for you sweet flower,” one head said beaming up at her.

“You were almost late,” another retorted, glaring up at her.

“You are on time exactly,” the third said in a monotone voice.

“I am here to save the world,” Briar said, not quite knowing which head she was responding to.

“So you are,”

“Yes indeed,”

“Of course,”

“Hecate said you would give me answers,” Briar felt this would be a long conversation.

“Hecate, the child of fantasy,” the happy head said.

“Hecate, the crone of creation,” the grumpy head said.

“Hecate, the mother of magic,” the neither happy nor grumpy head said.

“We will not give you answers child,” the grumpy head said after an awkward pause. “You will earn them.”

“And they won’t be answers, technically speaking,” the happy head corrected.

“They are wishes,” the neither happy nor grumpy head clarified.

Briar was getting slightly frustrated. “May I make a wish?”

“Not yet my dear,” chuckled the happy one. “As my dear friend said, you must earn your wish.”

“We are dirty, wash us with pure waters and sweet roses.”

“What pure waters?” Briar said almost hysterically, wondering why the fate of the world rested on the bathing of heads that were already resting in water.

“The brambles will lead you,” the neither happy nor grumpy head stated simply. The brambles parted, revealing a path.

“Do not fear, young one,” smiled the happy head. “You have a kind soul and a good head.”

Briar nodded to the happy head and took the bramble path.

The path was longer than the others, and Briar lost track of time. No paths were stemming off this one, and no distinguishing landmarks that would mark any type of distance or progress. She didn’t even know where exactly she was going. Suddenly, the sound of rushing water startled her. She hadn’t been to many streams in her lifetime and couldn’t remember there being one in walking distance to her home. A brief memory of her quadrant appeared unbidden in her mind. Two houses sat directly across from hers and two beside. The houses shared a backyard where fake grass and sparse bushes grew around a large fountain from which a marble statue of a fairy emerged, her wings dripping with water. This new world was much wider than the tamed nature of her backyard. This magic worked in odd ways. Briar turned the corner and inhaled in surprise. The stream was glorious. It was clear and sparkling, with slick, glistening rocks protruding from its quick-moving surface. The briars opened into a small clearing, allowing for grass, rocks, mud, and small trees to poke through the ground. Everything was covered in a soft downy layer of moss interlaced with small brown mushrooms. Briar knelt beside the stream and dipped a finger in. She immediately pulled it out. The stream was freezing cold against her skin, sending a chill down her body. Briar sat by the stream for a few moments, taking in the beauty of it all, and admiring the hypnotic flow of the water and the consistent symphony of its movements. A small pebble, dislodged by Briar’s foot, fell with a kerplunk into the stream, startling her from her trance.

“Oh,” she gasped in sleepy shock. “I have nothing to carry the water with.” Briar put her face in her hands. She hadn’t been thinking, so anxious to get answers, or wishes, she had completely forgotten about the most important part of her journey, which was the trip back.

Suddenly, she heard a shout. Briar turned and the briars instantly parted before her as though wanting her to investigate the noise. Another shout echoed in the empty air, but this time the voice formed words:

“Help me!”

Briar began to run, thoughts of injured humans waking, covered in brambles or lost children who had awoken before their parents raced through Briar’s mind. Briar hurried down the path. She hadn’t gone more than ten feet when a dilapidated glass and concrete building loomed before her. Vines and brambles crept across its decaying frame, there was something sad and abandoned about the building, as though those who used to inhabit it had come to a bitter end. Briar knew she should go back to the well, but something drew her to the building. Just as she was about to turn back, she heard the cry again:

“Please, help me!”

Before she could stop herself, she was pushing aside the vines that hung in front of the entrance. The interior was dark, despite the nearly nonexistent windows and dilapidated walls. There was a heavy, rotten, molding scent that assailed her nostrils, causing her to bring down what was left of the bee veil over her face.

“Hello?” Briar asked. Her thick, rubber shoes crunched against glass, and she looked down. Broken glass lined the floor, and there was squishing dampness coating the ground, as though a thick substance had spilled long ago and instead of evaporating, sunk into the floor, and lived there. Briar stepped farther in and a beam of light at the far end of the room caught her eye. She walked toward it, and the hairs on the back of Briar’s neck stood on edge as she made eye contact with the empty eye sockets of a skeleton inside a broken glass cylinder. Briar could feel the bile rise in the back of her throat and turned towards the exit, her boots sliding on the slimy ground in her haste. A hand reached forward and caught her. Briar screamed. The hand was weak, and Briar easily broke free, running out the door faster than she’d run in a while. She fell on her way out, landing on the warm dirt path the brambles had created for her. The hands were on her again, helping her up. She could feel their weight, weak, but with a flicker of strength behind them. She looked up into the dirt-streaked face of a boy around her age, well, her age now.

“Were you the one calling for help?” Briar asked immediately, standing up and brushing herself off. “I thought I was the only one awake. Who are you?”

The boy blinked, looking disorientated, either from the sunlight, or Briar’s incessant questioning. “I haven’t been awake very long,” the boy replied gazing at her with kind hazel eyes. “Maybe a day? Or more? And yes, I was the one who called for help. I’m so tired and thirsty, I thought that maybe if I was loud enough someone would come find me.”

“Who are you?” Briar repeated, clutching the pouch of water close to her.

“I don’t know.” The boy responded, seeming genuinely confused.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean, I know I am supposed to be a clone of one of the scientists, but I don’t know which one.”

Comprehension dawned on Briar’s face. “Oh, they must not have had time to input your memories.” Due to the length of time, the human race was to be asleep, each scientist was made two back up clones, just in case something should happen to them and in the instance of their probable death during the 100 years, the world was asleep. Clones knew the basics of their purpose and knowledge of the world (which of course they would forget once the dead scientists’ memories were implanted).

The clone nodded. Briar wondered when they stopped growing the clones because he looked younger than all the scientists that stayed awake. “What would you like to be called?” Briar asked.

“What are you called?” The clone asked.

“Briar Rose.”

“Like the flowers?” The clone gestured to the brambles.

Briar nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I will be called Thorn.”

“I suppose that fits, given the situation,” She smiled.

They walked in silence, Briar’s eyes slipping from the path to Thorn, she was curious about him, he seemed worth looking at. Thorn stumbled on a bramble root, and Briar cushioned his fall. Thorn looked pale and bloodless beneath the dirt on his face. Briar felt a knot form in her stomach, he needed food and water. If only I had asked for something in which to carry the water.

“There’s a stream close to here, with clean water,” Briar swung Thorn’s arm around her shoulders, one of her hands sliding around his waist. Briar tried to ignore the hard muscles she felt straining beneath his shirt. Now is not the time. Instead, Briar concentrated on walking. This proved difficult since Thorn weighed significantly more than she did, and she was still getting used to navigating the world with her newly elongated legs. Thorn, with Briar’s assistance, could support himself somewhat, but the couple’s progress was slow, and the sun seemed somehow hotter and brighter than before.

It seemed to Briar that they’d been walking for hours, but when she turned, the concrete building was still visible in the distance. Briar strained to hear the rhythmic babbling of the stream, but the world was silent save for a few songbirds.

“Be-berries?” Thorn stuttered.

“Berries?” Asked Briar, confused.

“Berries!” Thorn said excitedly. Pointing at the wall of brambles to his right.

There was indeed a thicket of black, juicy berries intertwined with the briars. Briar stepped closer, dragging Thorn with her. Blackberries. Briar hadn’t tasted berries in a very long time. She’d only had blackberries once for her 10th birthday and she could still remember their taste on her tongue: like the hot sun of summer and the sweet taste of sugar with a tinge of wildness she couldn’t quite describe. She was tempted to reach her gloved hand through the brambles and pluck the juiciest one she could find and stuff it into her mouth. Then she remembered the weight on her shoulders and looked down at Thorn. He was nearly slumped to the ground and looking sickly pale beneath his layer of grime. Briar turned away from the berries and sat Thorn on the ground.

“I’m going to get the berries, okay?” Briar’s voice wavered, she did not savor the idea of plunging back into the briars, especially with what little was left of her beekeeper’s suit.

Thorn only nodded in response to her statement, his head lulling to the side. The growing knot in Briar’s stomach tightened once more, and a desperation crept into her heart. I can’t lose him. Briar felt an odd comfortability around Thorn, as well as a responsibility for him. Besides, the idea of not having to complete this quest alone made her feel less lonely. Briar turned away from Thorn and faced the briars head-on. She pushed the briars away with her gloved hands, struggling through them no matter how much they scraped and tore at her clothes, hair, and skin. Briar was close to the blackberries when a thick branch of thorn-encrusted briar rose before her. She grabbed the branch, its thorns digging into her thick gloves and piercing her skin. Briar gritted her teeth, focusing on the delicious scent of the blackberries, and the image of Thorn laying prone on the heat-soaked path behind her. She took the branch in her other hand and broke it in half. Briar could feel the reverberation of the breakage through the briars like an echo. Briar expected to be punished for her disrespect, but, instead, it was as if Briar had proved her worth to the briars. Relief flooded through her.

“Thank you,” she murmured to the briars, plucking as many of the ripe berries from the blackberry brambles as she could.

Briar trekked back to Thorn, hoping he hadn’t passed out from the heat, or exhaustion. Briar almost dropped the berries she was holding. Thorn was gone. Panic seized Briar’s heart; she hadn’t been gone that long nor had she gone that far for that matter. Where could he have gone? Then she heard it, a sound melodic enough that it almost blended in, but loud enough that it was unmistakable. The stream. Briar rushed forward, careful not to drop her berries.

Not far from Thorn’s resting place was an opening within the brambles and the distinct sound of running water. Briar walked through the briar path and saw Thorn drinking from an old-fashioned water pouch.

“Have you had that the whole time?” Briar asked. “How did you find the stream? I thought I’d lost you!” Briar closed her mouth, attempting to still the rapid beating of her heart.

Thorn smiled, and Briar flushed. Thorn had washed the dirt off his face and his handsome features shown through. His skin wasn’t as pale as before, and he had tan skin similar to her own. His eyes were ringed by dark lashes that emphasized the sparkle of his hazel eyes.

Briar cleared her throat. “I brought you food.”

Thorn’s eyes widened at the pile of berries she held in her outstretched hands. “Thanks,” Thorn walked towards her and plucked a berry from her outstretched hands, popping it into his mouth. “This is so good.”

“Picked them myself,” Briar attempted a joke, which Thorn laughed at a little too hard as he shoved berries into his mouth. After he’d finished, Briar picked up the leather water pouch Thorn had been drinking out of. “Where did you get this?”

“The brambles, kinda just, gave it to me,” Thorn shrugged as he wiped blackberry juice from around his mouth. “I thought how it would be nice to have something to drink from, and there it was.”

“This place has the old magic in it,” Briar explained, opening the pouch and filling it with the clear water from the stream. “Do you think you’re strong enough to walk?”

“Yeah. Briar,” Thorn caught her eye. “Thank you,”

Briar smiled. “Of course, I couldn’t just leave you.”

The two began to walk down a path the briars had created for them, filling the silence however they could. Thorn asked Briar how she had come to find him, and Briar told him the story of her quest. Normally, with strangers, especially those encountered in a briar patch, she would have been guarded and held her tongue. But Thorn made her feel something she’d never felt before; a strange sense of intimate familiarity that was usually cultivated over longer periods of time. Briar and Thorn talked throughout the journey to the well, despite his lack of personal knowledge, and having been born almost yesterday, Thorn had a personality and sense of hopefulness that calmed Briar. The two were so entranced with each other they didn’t notice that it was almost nightfall until the two stumbled upon the well, almost missing it in the dimming light.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show up,” the grumpy head groused.

“Hello, my sweets,” the happy head smiled.

“Hello, Thorn, hello Briar,” the neither happy nor grumpy head greeted them. None of the heads were surprised to see Thorn, for they knew of anything that drank water.

“Hello,” Thorn and Briar greeted them in unison.

“Do you have what was asked of you?” The neither happy nor grumpy head asked.

“Yes,” Briar produced the swollen pouch/

“Perfect!”

“Okay,”

“Finally.”

The grumpy head bobbed forward. “It appears we owe you the answers you so wish for. I will tell you what has transpired since you fell asleep: Once Upon a Time, a thousand years ago, the scientists realized 100 years would not be enough to bring the planet back to a place in which you humans could roam free. However, they had realized that the ancient magic of this land was returning. Some scientists wanted to harness the magic and work with it to help restore the earth. Others wanted nothing to do with it. This disagreement was their downfall. Each group supposed that they knew what was best for humanity, and they destroyed themselves because of it. So, with no one left alive to awaken the humans, and your technology overtaken by the ancient magic and returning nature, you stayed asleep for 1,000 years.”

Briar inhaled, a thousand years would explain the things she had seen, the own physical changes her body had gone through, and how the magic had grown so much, uniting once again with nature. The only pang in her heart was the reality that she never saw it happen and she never would.

“Now, dear,” the happy head bumped the grumpy head out of the way. “We have given you one wish of knowledge for your heroic kindness,” she nodded to the water pouch. “Now, we have a second quest for you, in exchange for your second wish. You must bathe us with petals from the sweet roses and the pure water within that pouch.”

Thorn and Briar collected the roses, helping each other pick off the petals and gently placing them in the water until it looked as though the heads were submerged in a well of soft, pink snow instead of water. Next, Briar poured the water over each head one by one until the pouch was empty. The well began to glow then, getting brighter and brighter each second, until Briar and Thorn were forced to look away. When the glow had dimmed to a pulsating green, Briar and Thorn gazed upon the heads in awed silence; for instead of the three greasy, thin-haired heads, floated three beautiful, and other-worldly faces. One had short, curled navy hair, sea-glass green skin made up of tiny, reflective scales, inset with eyes that held milk-white stars. The head smiled at Briar and Thorn.

“Hello, my dears,” the happy head greeted them, their pointed teeth a fluorescent white in the glow of the well.

“What are you kids staring at?” Asked the grumpy head, with cork-screw yellow horns jutting from their forehead, they had pomegranate-colored skin and full cheeks. Their auburn hair glistened in the light and their stormy eyes flashed like lightning.

“Us.” Answered the head that was neither happy nor grumpy. The third head had pointed ears, blue skin, and flaming red hair that looked too hot to touch. Their pupil-less orange eyes stared up at them. “We are beautiful, and humans love things that are beautiful, though sometimes they neglect them.”

“You are beautiful, but the knowledge you gave me before your bath holds the same value.”

“Well, someone knows just what to say,” huffed the grumpy head.

“Hush,” the happy head bumped the grumpy head playfully. “They have completed their second quest. We must reward them properly.” The happy head beamed up at Thorn and Briar. “Briar, Thorn, you have made peace with nature, and the old magic, in fact, you have allowed nature, magic, and humans to coexist. You trusted our guidance and did not fight the brambles when they lead you down winding paths,” the happy head stared into Briar’s eyes in a way that conveyed meaning Briar could not translate. “You have helped those in need and washed those who appeared to you unappealing. Thus, your second wish has been granted. The plants and nature that has risen up during your slumber will not disappear, but the briars will no longer encase the land.”

Once the happy head had finished speaking, the briars receded. Briar could hear their roots and branches creaking as they slowly crept away from what they had been covering, revealing lakes, streams, caverns, trees, wild-flowers, and waterfalls that Briar had never seen outside the Nature Realms. Briar could feel her eyes filling with tears, joy flowing freely down her cheeks. Remanence of buildings poked through the underbrush, and their destruction added to the beauty of the nature around her. She could not wait for her mother and father to see what had been lying under the concrete, glass, and metal that used to encase the land.

“You have one final quest,” the neither happy nor grumpy head stated. “Briar, in order to awaken the rest of humanity, you must go to the Boiling Spring and destroy a possible future to secure humanities’ permanent fate.”

“What possible future?” Briar asked, looking down at her torn and dirt-drenched clothes. “I have nothing.”

“It will appear to you,” the head said, an almost sorrowful expression gracing their normally neutral lips. “Follow the wildflowers.”

Below her feet, Briar noticed a path of multi-colored wildflowers had sprouted. She took Thorn’s hand, and together they followed the path farther from the well, and into a land familiar, yet strange. The land had dips and curves that Briar remembered. The most distinctive was the great hill to her far right. She’d have to trek up and down the monstrosity on her way to and from school on the days when the weather was bearable. It was almost unrecognizable now, covered in a thick layer of grass, rose bushes, and trees. Before her was a winding path that gently zigzagged down a slow incline. There used to be an old-fashioned sweet shop at the end of it that made hard candies shaped like flowers. It was all covered in nature now. There were groves of fruit trees, grassy meadows, roses, briars, the distant babble of brooks, and the trickle of streams. Briar wondered about the quest the heads had given her. What possible future must be destroyed? And why?

“Look,” Thorn tapped Briar’s shoulder, and pointed to a pond, taking up three lily-pads, rested a giant dragonfly, its body a shimmery blue with long transparent wings. “Beautiful, right?”

“I didn’t know they could get that big.”

“I think you’ll be encountering a lot of strange creatures and plants in the years to come.”

Briar frowned as they continued walking. The earth looked beautiful again, with a hint of that alien wildness that came from the reawakening of ancient magic; but Briar couldn’t help feeling as though she was slowly losing a bit of that beauty and magic.

“What did you mean ‘you’?”

“Hm?” Thorn hummed, looking back at her, he’d been admiring a grassy field in which wild horses grazed.

“You said you’ll be encountering a lot of strange things,” Briar dropped his hand, it was beginning to feel like an obligation instead of a kind gesture. “Don’t you mean we, you, me, the whole of humanity?” Thorn smiled sadly and Briar wanted to scream. “No, you can’t be serious. The heads think you’re my possible future, they want me to…” Briar bit her lip.

“They don’t want you to do anything, the world needs you to make the right decision,” Thorn touched her cheek. “And I think you know what that is.”

“No, I do not,” Briar stated petulantly. “There is no reason we cannot remain, er, together after I wake the rest of the world.”

“Briar,” Thorn took her hands in his. “Please, listen,” Briar looked into his eyes, there was a spark there, a twinkle of possibility, but beside it was a twinge of dark acceptance. “I’m not what you think,” Briar opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again. “The High Elders never told the public, but each scientist had a fourth back up, a final place to store all their living memories.”

“I don’t understand.”

Thorn sighed, as though the reality of his existence pained him. “I’m a clone hologram, made of technology, and brought to physical form by magic,” Thorn pressed Briar’s hand to his chest. “I do feel things for you, and you can touch me, because of the magic that binds me to physicality, but I am also a tool. I was built to be used by humans to store their last memories in case all the clones died. I was brought into a physical body to be used by magic to test your heart, your soul, to prove your selfless kindness.” A tear dropped down Thorn’s cheek and landed on Briar’s hand. The tear crackled electric blue and disappeared without a trace.

Briar wanted to swat his hand away, how dare he say these awful things, but in her heart, she knew he was right. Even now, she was imagining it. They could live in a cave, or an abandoned building, enjoy nature together, maybe they’d even be able to wake a few people by salvaging the Kiss Serum from some of the broken Ever Afters. It would be better for the environment if only a few people were awake anyways…but even as she thought it, she knew it wouldn’t work. It wasn’t fair to only share this world with a few people, that decision wasn’t up to her. Magic deserved to be shared with everyone. Still, she couldn’t...

“I’m not going to murder you if that’s what you mean.” Suddenly the scenery changed into a deserted area, the ground was a deep red, and cracked from lack of moisture, in the distance, Briar could hear a bubbling and popping sound. The Boiling Spring. Briar looked into Thorn’s eyes. “Is that truly how you think of yourself?” Briar asked. “Nothing more than a test, a part of my quest?” Briar nearly spat out the word quest. A once noble mission had turned suddenly murky.

Thorn shrugged. “Isn’t that all I am?”

“No!” Briar practically shouted, so desperate to prove to Thorn that he meant more than he thought, that he was more than just some random stranger, and so much more than a simple tool to be wielded against her. Briar’s goal was a noble one, she knew that, but in this instance, she hated the way she’d been used and manipulated. “You helped me, whether or not it’s because you were created by humans and used by magic, you could have chosen to run away, never contacted me. You could have continued to lie to me, and stayed alive, in this physical form, but you didn’t,” Briar paused to take a breath, pushing back the tears in her eyes. “You did what you thought was best.”

Thorn smiled. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” Their lips touched gently, a simple kiss that sent shivers down Briar’s spine. “I know I would have loved you,” Briar said quietly.

“Me too, but that’s a future that can never happen.”

Briar nodded sadly. “And it’s a future that never should.”

“Think of me when you see the light through the trees, and when you see the sweet roses bloom.”

“I will never stop thinking of you.”

They walked to the Boiling Spring in silence, the air thickening the closer they came to it.

“Will it hurt?” Briar asked Thorn.

Thorn shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t think so.” With that, Thorn disappeared, and in his place was a square chip, no bigger than the nail on Briar’s pinky. Briar walked to the edge of the Boiling Spring and tossed it in.

“Goodbye, Thorn.”

Once the chip was submerged beneath the surface of the Boiling Spring, the entire landscape disappeared, and Briar was back in a luscious forest, but this time, she could hear shouts of laughter, names being called, and the spilling of tears filled with relief and joy.

Everyone was awake.

The End.