Painted flash design of a pink crystal cluster framed by crescent moons, arrows, feathers and small stars, shown on paper over a green book.

Crystal cluster with crescent moons and arrows

Mixed · Flash

A watercolour design of a pink quartz crystal cluster sits at the centre of the sheet, with soft pink and purple washes and fine black ink highlights. Stippled crescent moons sit above and below it, with arrows, feathers and small stars drawn in clean black linework around the edges. Raw crystals and dried petals are arranged on a dark green surface around the paper.

Crystal Moon Crescent moon Arrow Feather Star Watercolour

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mara had been told the quartz at Hollin Scar would not give up its heart to anyone who came with a shovel, so she came with a feather instead, tucked behind her ear the way her grandmother had worn one to the tithe fair. The mine foreman laughed at her from the lip of the shaft. Nobody climbed down the Scar after the second moon of winter, he said, not with the wind coming off the ridge like a blade.

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She went down anyway, with a lamp and a bag of bread. The walls glittered rose and violet where her light touched them, and the cluster at the bottom stood taller than a church door, each point sharp as an arrowhead. Frost lay in white stippled crescents along the ledges, one for every month the old king had been dead. She counted them until the lamp guttered, then sat with her back against the warm stone and waited for the dark to answer.

It answered in a voice like her mother's, asking what she wanted. Mara said she wanted nothing for herself. She wanted the foreman's son brought back from the cold, the widow's sheep pulled out of the drift, and the crystal kept in its place so the mountain would not split the valley open. The voice said the cluster did not bargain. It only remembered. So Mara gave it the feather, and the crystal took it, and somewhere above her the wind dropped all at once.

When she climbed out, two pale moons hung over Hollin, one waxing and one waning, and the foreman's son was sitting on the cart with a blanket round his shoulders. He stood up when he saw her, and his breath rose in a plain grey cloud that did not freeze.