Page 12 of Eternal Thorns

From these windows, the Eldergrove stretched out like a wall of darkness. But there - a flicker of light between the trees. And another. Like lanterns carried by invisible hands, or stars that had fallen to earth and learned to dance.

“No one lives in that forest,” Kai had said earlier, too firmly. “That's what everyone knows.”

The ancestral bed dominated the room, its four posts rising like ancient trees. The wood was pristine despite decades of neglect, carved with scenes that echoed those downstairs - figures dancing through forests, ceremonies beneath moonlight, bargains struck between human and otherworldly beings. AsSilas changed for bed, the carved eyes seemed to follow his movement.

Sleep came reluctantly, filled with half-formed dreams of antlered shadows and burning stars. In that space between waking and dreaming, the carved figures on the bed posts definitely moved, twisting in their wooden dance to watch him with sightless eyes.

The key's sudden cold against his chest yanked him back to consciousness. Silver light flooded the room, though the moon had long since passed his windows. Frost spiraled across the glass in impossible patterns - branches, leaves, text in a language that hurt his eyes to look at. The fire still burned in the grate, but it might as well have been painted for all the warmth it provided.

Move, his instincts screamed. His sword lay within reach beside the bed. But his body wouldn't respond, held motionless by an invisible force that felt like winter wind given form.

The shadows near his window began to coalesce, drawing in threads of moonlight like a spider spinning darkness into form. Silas's heart stuttered as a figure emerged - tall and otherworldly, exactly like the drawing in his pocket. Antlers of shadow crowned its head, shifting and reforming with each movement. Markings like liquid starlight flowed across skin that seemed made of twilight and tree bark. But its eyes - gods, its eyes burned green and gold, ancient as the forest itself and filled with a rage that made the air crackle with frost.

The temperature plunged so low that Silas's breath came out in white clouds. When the figure spoke, its voice held whispers of rustling leaves and the rumble of distant storms.

“So,” it said, each word dripping with centuries of bitterness, “an Ashworth dares to return.”

The key flared with sudden warmth, fighting against the winter cold that filled the room. The figure's eyes narrowed, fixing on Silas's chest where the metal burned beneath his shirt.

“And bearing stolen power, no less.” The being moved closer, each step leaving traces of frost on the floorboards. “Tell me, little lordling, do you even know what you carry? What blood price was paid for that key?”

Silas tried to speak, but the cold had frozen his voice. The carved figures on the bed posts writhed faster now, their wooden faces twisting in silent warning.

“Your ancestor wore that same look of innocence,” the figure continued. “Right before he shattered everything we built. Everything we-” It stopped, power flickering like northern lights beneath its skin. “No matter. I did not come to discuss ancient history.”

The invisible force holding Silas eased slightly, enough that he could draw a proper breath. “Who are you?”

“I am Thorne, Guardian of the Eldergrove,” the figure said, frost spreading from his feet with each step closer. “Keeper of ancient oaths and protector of powers your kind abandoned. And you, Ashworth, are trespassing.”

The key against Silas's chest pulsed with warmth, fighting the supernatural cold. Light began to leak from beneath his nightshirt, and Thorne's fluid movements faltered.

“I don't understand,” Silas managed, finding his voice stronger as the key's warmth spread through him. “What oaths? What powers? I was sent here as punishment, nothing more.”

“Punishment?” Thorne's laugh held no humor. “You think your petty family squabbles compare to what was broken here?” His form flickered like a candle in wind, showing glimpses of something vast and ancient beneath the humanoid shape - branches that moved like limbs, eyes that held entire constellations.

The key's light grew brighter, and Silas felt its power resonating with something in the room, in the very walls ofThornhaven. “I swear, I don't know what you're talking about. My father never-”

“Your father,” Thorne spat the word like poison, “knows nothing of true power or true betrayal. But your blood remembers, doesn't it? That key wouldn't respond to you otherwise.”

Silas looked down at the glow emanating from his chest. “My grandmother gave it to me. She said-” He hesitated, remembering her cryptic warnings.

Thorne went very still. “What did Lady Evangeline tell you?”

The use of his grandmother's name startled Silas. “She said the forest remembers the Ashworth name, and not fondly. She said there were old stories about ancestors who ventured too close and never returned.”

The room's shadows writhed like living things. Thorne's eyes blazed, green bleeding to molten gold. “She dares speak of remembrance? She, who helped bury the truth?” The temperature plunged so low that frost crackled across Silas's skin. “Your grandmother knows exactly what price was paid for your family's ambition.”

The spirit moved with inhuman speed, reaching for Silas with hands that shimmered between flesh and shadow. But the key flared with sudden, blinding light. A barrier of pure radiance burst between them, forcing Thorne back.

The forest guardian snarled, a sound like breaking branches and winter storms. His true form showed clearly now. Antlers that branched into infinity, skin of ancient bark, robes woven from shadow and starlight. But in his eyes, behind the rage and power, Silas caught something that looked almost like pain.

The key's light held steady, creating a dome of warmth in the freezing room. Where its radiance touched the carved figures on the bed posts, they danced faster, as if celebrating some victory. Thorne watched it all with an expression Silas couldn't read.

Sudden pounding on the bedroom door broke the tension. “Silas? What the hell is going on in there?”

Kai's voice seemed to come from another world entirely, so removed from the supernatural standoff that Silas almost laughed. The door handle rattled, but whatever power filled the room held it shut.

Thorne's form wavered, drawing back toward the shadows, but his eyes remained fixed on Silas. “So the Ashworths truly have forgotten. How convenient.” His voice took on a formal cadence, power threading through each word. “Know this, then. Your family broke a sacred covenant with the Eldergrove. Blood oaths were shattered, trust was betrayed, and a price was paid - though not by those who earned it.”

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