Page 20 of Eternal Thorns

Silas touched the key, feeling its steady warmth. Through the window, the Eldergrove loomed dark and watchful. Somewhere in those ancient depths lay answers - and two more journals that might explain why his ancestor's face in his features had shaken the forest's guardian so deeply.

He just hoped they could find those answers before the full moon forced a reckoning none of them were ready to face.

7

WATCHERS

Agnes traced patterns in spilled tea leaves, their shapes forming and reforming with deliberate purpose as moonlight spilled through the cottage windows. Each configuration told a different story, yet all led to the same inevitable conclusion.

“It begins then.” She didn't look up from her divination. “The key has found its new bearer.”

The Elder Willow's manifestation shifted, her bark-skin form catching silver light as she moved closer. Roots spread beneath her with quiet purpose, connecting to earth older than memory.

“You sound uncertain,” the ancient spirit observed. “Is he not what you expected?”

“He's exactly what we expected.” Agnes finally looked up, her clouded eyes holding centuries of carefully guarded knowledge. “That's what worries me. The prophecy speaks of choice and consequence, but says nothing of cost. You've seen what balance demands.”

“I've seen what denial costs as well.” The Elder Willow's voice rustled like autumn leaves. “The shadow entity grows stronger with each passing season. If we don't act now...”

“Then all realms face darkness.” Agnes sighed, suddenly looking every one of her years. Her practical dress and herb-stained hands belied the weight of power she carried. “But must it always be the young who pay for old mistakes?”

“They pay regardless.” The Elder Willow's branches swayed in remembered sorrow. “At least this way, they have chance to choose their sacrifice.”

The witch's clouded eyes cleared briefly, showing depths of power and pain. “Like we chose ours?”

Neither needed to speak the price they'd each paid for knowledge. The scars of old choices ran deeper than mere magic could touch.

The Elder Willow's roots shifted beneath her, reaching for memories buried deep in sacred soil. “Do you remember what it felt like? Before fear taught us to deny connection?”

“Every day.” Agnes traced another pattern in the leaves, but her focus had drifted to distant years. “Sometimes I wake thinking I can still feel the forest magic singing in my blood, before I chose safety over possibility.”

“Your forest spirit,” the Elder Willow said softly. “The one who offered partnership.”

“Ash.” The name fell from Agnes's lips like a prayer, or perhaps a curse. “She had eyes like summer storms and a laugh that made flowers bloom out of season.” Her hands trembled slightly. “When she offered to teach me deeper magic, to bridge our worlds...”

“You ran.”

“I chose what seemed safe. What seemed right.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “The noble houses were already turning against magic. Those of us with power were being hunted. I told myself I was protecting both of us.”

The Elder Willow's branches drooped with shared grief. “And instead?”

“Instead, I gave the shadow entity exactly what it needed - love denied out of fear.” Agnes's laugh held no humor. “My rejection corrupted something pure into darkness. Ash retreated so deep into the forest that even you can't find her now.”

“Yet here you are, still fighting that same darkness.”

“Here we both are.” Agnes met the ancient spirit's gaze. “You never speak of your own choice. Your own denial.”

Silence filled the cottage, heavy with unspoken pain. Finally, the Elder Willow's voice emerged soft as falling leaves: “Some prices are too heavy to voice, even after centuries.”

“And now we ask Silas and Thorne to risk everything we were too afraid to face.” Agnes gathered her divination tools with careful hands. “At least they choose with open eyes, knowing the cost.”

“Perhaps that's what makes the difference.” The Elder Willow's form began to fade back into forest shadows. “They choose connection despite the darkness, not because they're unaware of it.”

“Let's hope that's enough.” Agnes watched her old friend disappear. “Let's hope their love proves stronger than our fear.”

Moonlight painted silver paths across scattered tea leaves, their patterns still telling stories of choices yet to come. In the distance, an owl called - its voice carrying notes of change that neither witch nor ancient spirit could ignore.

The time of choosing approached for all of them. The only question was whether this generation's courage could heal what fear had broken so long ago.

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