Does the moon long for morning

Stooooorm

As snow gently falls over Corona, so does the panic. It was June, and cold weather in the Kingdom of the Sun was unheard of this time of year. Farmers scrambled to save what crops hadn't been destroyed by the creeping rocks from a disastrous early freeze:

Varian tilts his head up to the sky and watches a few of the flakes drift slowly downward. Already the powder is being to stick and blanket over the ground and if the grey clouds blotting out the sky are any indication, it wasn't stopping any time soon.

Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself and moved on.

"Ruddinger?" he called out, his voice muffled by the thickening snowfall. "Ruddinger, we need to get inside!"

Chittering nearby leads him to an overturned wheelbarrow, where he finds a very cold, shivering raccoon huddled beneath it. As soon as Varian reaches him, Rudinger scrambles up his leg and into his arms. Varian pulls him close, pressing the raccoon tightly to his chest to warm him. Rudinger's chattering quiets as Varian hurries them both toward home.

Unfortunately, the inside of his house is not much better than the outside. Snow and wind blow through the large hole in the wall, allowing it to gather in the main room. Varian's breath fogs visibly as he sets Rudinger down.

Without wasting a second, he grabbed every blanket and pillow he could find and dragged them down into the lab. The room was closed off from the rest of the house and would do a much better job of keeping him warm than any of the other rooms. He nods to himself , satisfied it would be warmer there, then dashed back upstairs to rescue anything that could be damaged by the snow. He runs back and forth, arms filled with his and his mother's books and journals. Papers filled with different inventions or chemical formulas were snatched up and hurried down to safety.

Most alchemists never wrote down their experiments, fearing others would steal their research. Varian thought it was a selfish, foolish choice—what was the point of discovery if not to benefit others? Yet, with every trek back into his icy living room, he found himself envying them more and more.

His muscles strained as he pulled the large trunk of his father's things out of the attic and down into the lab. Realistically it probably would have fine where it  was, but as the storm starts to howl and roar around the house, he couldn't shake the fear that the roof might be blown clean off.

With everything stowed away, he yanks the trap door closed and makes his way to his pile of blankets in the corner. He only stops to pull his father's cloak from the trunk and wrap it tightly around himself, feeling its warmth. Ruddinger immediately burrows in, curling up on his chest and tucking his icy nose into Varian's neck.

Varian stroked the raccoon's fur gently, trying to calm his own nerves as he listened to the wild, relentless storm raging above.

———

The storm ends as abruptly as it began, blowing past and leaving only a haunting stillness behind.

It's the final straw for many in Old Corona.

Varian's house wasn't the only one wrecked by the black rocks, and for many, it simply isn't worth the fight to stay. They pack up quietly and leave, slipping away as quickly as the storm had come.

It's tempting to follow, to escape somewhere untouched by darkness and ruin. But it's also impossible. Varian has no family outside of Old Corona, nowhere he can go. And if he leaves, how would his mom ever find him? How would he even know if she returned?

So Varian stays behind as the last of them leave with carts full of salvaged belongings—the farmers who have lost their fields, the bakers without bakeries, the cobblers with no customers. And Old Corona, empty now, is quieter than it's ever been.

———

Varian keeps working.

Pages fill with failed experiments, and his lab becomes more chaotic by the day. He doesn't bother moving his bed of blankets and pillows from the floor and starts to only go upstairs for food and water.

He's running out of time. The rocks keep growing, consuming homes and injuring people. How many more will suffer because he can't find a solution? Because he was too slow? He can't wait weeks or months for his mother to come back—Corona needs him now.

His movements are almost mechanical as he prepares his next attempt. This new solution glows a bright, golden yellow, the color of the princess's hair. He swirls it in the beaker, then carefully begins pouring it over the black rock cluster at the center of the room.

A loud crash behind him shatters his concentration.

"Rudinger! How many times have I told you not to touch anything while I'm working?"

The raccoon gives an almost guilty look, backing away slowly from the toppled equipment.

Sighing, he turns back to the bubbling solution. While he was distracted, the liquid began to crystalize, forming an amber-like structure—larger than any reaction he's ever seen. He leans closer, awestruck.

But before he can react, the amber lurches forward, wrapping around his hand and creeping up his arm. Panic flares as he tries to yank his hand free, but the amber holds tight, coiling and climbing higher.

He needs to get out.

The cold, unfeeling amber slowly snakes up his arm, nearing his elbow.

He needs to get out.

The thought screams through his mind as he scrambles, searching his pockets for something, anything to help him break free. His breaths come in ragged gasps and his heart is loud in his ears.His fingers brush the warm glass of a vial in his apron, and with a wild, desperate plan, he pulls it out.

Varian leans back, pulling on his arm as much as he can. Quickly, before he can change his mind, he uncaps the vile and in a singular jerking motion he pours the Quirinium over his arm.

Agony. Searing pain explodes through him as he falls back onto the ground, free from the still growing amber. Gasping, he pushes himself back from the horrible mass, struggling to put as much space between him and the spreading amber as he can.

The edges of his vision blur as he pulls himself away, his mangled arm throbbing.

He collapses, consciousness fading as the pain overtakes him.