Page 11 of Eternal Thorns

They both stared at the fire. Neither spoke.

Finally, Kai cleared his throat. “So we're not going to talk about that?”

“About what? The perfectly normal fire that's definitely supposed to be that color?”

“Right. Totally normal. Like those windows that keep changing when I'm not looking directly at them.” Kai stood, brushing off his knees. “Want to help me find the kitchen? I'm starving, and weird magic fire is hungry work.”

As they explored deeper into the manor, Silas noticed more odd details. Sections of wallpaper peeled away to reveal murals underneath. Figures with antlers dancing under moonlight. Trees with faces in their bark. And everywhere, that same architectural motif of intertwined branches and leaves, like the house had grown rather than been built.

The key led them to the kitchen, growing warmer whenever they took the correct turn. Silas didn't mention this to Kai, who was busy commenting on the mansion's “horror novel aesthetic.”

“At least the kitchen's not too bad,” Kai said, already rummaging through their supplies. “Bit dusty, but the stove seems solid. You should check out that fancy library we passed while I make dinner. Just try not to disturb any ancient curses or vengeful spirits.”

“Your confidence in this situation is inspiring.”

“Hey, I've read books. Never investigate the creepy noises, don't split up, and don't make deals with mysterious strangers. Basic survival stuff.”

The library doors were made of the same carved wood as the sideboard, but these patterns made Silas's eyes hurt if he looked at them too long. Inside, the room smelled of old leather and secrets. Tall windows let in the last rays of sunlight, dust motes dancing in the beams like lazy fireflies.

But something was off about the bookshelves. Silas had grown up in a library much like this one, had practically memorized how books settled over time. These gaps weren't natural - someone had removed volumes recently, and in a hurry judging by the dust patterns.

The key grew almost painfully hot as he approached one particular shelf. His fingers found the hidden catch almost instinctively, as if they remembered a pattern his mind never learned. A panel clicked open.

Inside lay a leather-bound journal, its pages yellow with age. The inscription on the first page made his breath catch: “Property of Marcus Ashworth, 1824.”

Lord, help me, for I fear what we have awakened in our pride and ambition. The forest keeper warned us, but we would not listen. The ritual was meant to bind our worlds, to create lasting peace between human and fey.

The handwriting grew more erratic with each entry.

The price was too high. They trusted us, and we betrayed that trust for power. The keeper's eyes when he realized what we'd done - I will neverforget that look as long as I live. Which may not be long, given what now stalks the borders of our land.

The key must be hidden. The knowledge must be buried. Let no Ashworth ever again

A gust of wind whipped through the room, though all the windows were sealed. Silas's lamp went out, plunging him into total darkness. The key burned against his skin.

When he managed to relight the lamp with shaking hands, the journal had vanished. Only a single page remained, floating to the floor like a fallen leaf. On it, someone had drawn a figure that made Silas's heart stutter.

Tall and otherworldly, with antlers of shadow and eyes like stars. Markings swirled across its skin like flowing moonlight. It looked both beautiful and terrifying, ancient and alien. And Silas could have sworn he'd seen something just like it watching from the forest's edge as they'd arrived.

“Dinner's ready,” Kai called from down the hall. “I made do with what we had, so don't expect anything fancy.”

Silas quickly folded the drawing and tucked it into his pocket. The library suddenly felt colder, and he could have sworn he heard whispers in a language he almost understood.

“Coming,” he called back, trying to keep his voice steady. But as he reached the door, movement caught his eye. His reflection in the window showed him pale and tired. But for just a moment, something else seemed to be reflected there too.

When he looked again, only darkness stared back. But the key still burned against his chest, and somewhere in the depths of Thornhaven Manor, a door creaked open on its own.

Dinner was a quiet affair, both of them focused more on their bowls of simple stew than on conversation. The drawing from the journal burned in Silas's pocket like a guilty secret, and everyshadow in the dining room's corners seemed to hide watching eyes.

“Right,” Kai said finally, pushing back from the table. “I'm taking the blue bedroom down the hall. You know, the one with minimal creepy decorations and only one suspicious-looking mirror.”

“Thanks for dinner,” Silas managed. “And for, you know. Coming with me.”

“Someone has to make sure you don't get eaten by whatever lives in this place.” Kai paused at the door. “Try not to do anything stupid before morning, okay?”

The master chamber waited at the top of the grand staircase, its double doors carved with those same twisting forest scenes. Inside, moonlight spilled through frost-touched windows, creating shadows that didn't quite match the room's architecture. The space felt wrong somehow, too vast and too empty at the same time, like a cathedral long abandoned by its gods.

The key refused to cool against Silas's skin. When he tried to remove it, the cord seemed to tighten, almost like a warning. He left it where it was.

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