Chapter 6: A Song of Ice and Fire
And You Say I Never Get You Flowers
Previously in Chapter 5: Through the Looking Glass
Sunday morning, we woke up early, greeted by a perfect day. Nicole knew I had planned a schmancy lunch date for our seven-year anniversary and wanted to primp. She spent half the morning getting ready and half the morning complaining about “lunch not being very romantic and why didn’t we do dinner.”
She had suspected where we were going and only then did she, begrudgingly, acquiesce to such an early reservation, but with her own reservations. Did I book last minute? Did I take our anniversary seriously? Did I even love her at all?!
Honestly, I worried, she might not even be hungry by the time we sat down to eat because she was about to eat her words.
We wished our villa hosts farewell and headed south to Tarrytown. Riding shotgun in a beautiful, pink and white flowing dress, Nicole read the sixth clue.
“Hidden under a bridge on the outskirts of the garden, there lies a block of ice so cold it won't melt even under the brightest rays of sunshine. Do not reject the warmth around you; let yourself be loved. The only way to thaw a frozen heart is together… with dragon’s fire.
41.109364, -73.820352”
By 11:45am, we found ourselves nearing an old stone bridge on a country road. It was early autumn and the leaves were turning shades of sunset. I pulled the car along the side of the road and led Nicole on foot down a narrow, sloped trail.
As the terrain flattened, we discovered the sixth horcrux. On a slate of stone, beneath the bridge, lay a clear block of ice, measuring one foot on all sides.
We approached the Isolation Heart cautiously. It lay under the midday sun without even a hint of sweat. Nicole tried to lift the block, but it was too slick. She looked around as if to find something to smash it with, but there were only fallen leaves nearby and no one in sight. I shrugged.
We needed dragon’s fire.
We had come so far but the trail — dare I say — had gone cold. Nicole was distraught, and a little hangry, and shouted, first to me, then to the tunnel under the bridge and the open fields behind us, “Where are my dragons?!”
Her call echoed through the tunnel, reverberating between the limestone walls. A low rumble was heard, followed by the rushing sound of gas igniting.
From the far end of the opening, my sister, Janna — who lives across the country — appeared wielding a blowtorch!
Sometimes, on our path to wholeyness, we reject love. Safe in our emotional cocoons, we also avoid hate. Cruel are the words...
I sometimes imagine caterpillar Nicole, wiggling her way around the gardens of Bay Area California in the ‘90s. Lot of nice bugs around she could trust who loved that she lit up a root with infectious energy, wit and positivity.
“Bully for you!” She’d say to her chaps, genuinely, and with vigor, inspiring the creatures around her.
But one day, while climbing towards the sun-drenched, delicious upper foliage of a particularly tall petunia, she was pushed off a leaf by a stink bug.
“Perhaps it was my fault...” she thought, and marched along. But then it happened again. And again and again.
And over the years, she learned to forage lower and lower, until eventually, she curled into a tight ball at the base of a flower and entered chrysalis.
For years she stayed there, and grew strong. She rid herself of everything holding her down and emerged able to fly to the garden’s canopy. From there, she looked down on friends and strangers with confidence, but still, wondered who she could trust. She realized she would always feel isolated if she didn’t open her heart to others.
What better way, I thought, was there to thaw the Isolation Heart than with a sister’s love.
Whereas the warm sunshine of a perfect day could never melt the ice, the dragon’s fire burned right through it. Nicole and Janna blasted the cube together.
With the sixth horcrux destroyed, Janna presented Nicole with a tulip, which was added to the quiver.
As we hiked back up the trail, Janna slipped me the engagement ring in a small plastic baggie.
“No ring until ten minutes from using it?!” You might ask. Well, I had heard stories of men so overcome with desire to propose with the ring in hand that I resisted seeing mine until the final moment. I couldn’t risk E.P.’s plan.
I took the ring out of the bag to put it in my jacket pocket. It had been crafted especially for us by a Pietra wizard named Mera. I had seen photos… but the final piece in hand was even more spectacular: technically perfect, exactly what Nicole wanted, and ours alone.
So with several carats burning a hole in my pocket, I headed up the trail to the car. I tossed Janna the keys and took the back seat, where I had stashed a bevy of props the night before. As we drove a half a mile down the road, I reached under the front seat and collected a white mask, a scroll, and a speaker.
We turned down a small road and passed the gate to Blue Hill at Stone Barns. Gardens, pastures, greenhouses and the eponymous barn provided a bucolic mise en scene on what was formerly land from the Rockefeller Estate. Blue Hill is a center for agricultural education and a Michelin-starred restaurant dedicated to connecting patrons with nature.
Butterfly Nicole was delighted, her suspicions confirmed.
Just as the top of the barn was coming into view, Janna pulled the car over beside a split rail fence at the base of a tree-lined hill. She looked at me in the rear view mirror to confirm if this was the spot. I nodded.
Janna fetched a scroll from the driver-side car door and presented it to Nicole, who raised an eyebrow, wondering how deep this conspiracy went.
“The seventh and final horcrux is not yours to destroy. You’re past the point of no return.
41.105917, -73.827045”
Before the last words left Nicole’s lips, I screamed, “No!” and bolted out of the car, because I knew in my heart what this clue meant. I was the last horcrux.
I sprinted up the hill without looking back.
On to an Interlude: A Brief History of Le Papillon
Finally in Chapter 7: The Point of No Return