Page 31 of Eternal Thorns

“That's not-”

“It is.” She moved closer, her root-feet barely touching the ground. “Your connection to Silas already existed. The dream-sharing didn't create it - it merely revealed what was already there. Just as it revealed the true nature of what we face.”

Thorne felt his anger deflate, replaced by something more complicated. “The entity. You knew it would show itself if I opened that connection.”

“I suspected,” she corrected. “But knowing and understanding are different things. We needed to see its full nature before we could know how to fight it.”

“But each shared memory weakens our barriers,” Thorne argued, though with less heat now. “Creates new connections the entity can exploit. You felt how it grew stronger just from one night's sharing.”

“Then we must choose our memories carefully,” Rowan said, stepping forward to bridge the tension. “Show him enough to recognize the danger, but not so much that we break our own defenses.”

Thorne's form flickered as he considered the possibilities. He could show Silas the warning signs that preceded Marcus's betrayal, the first stirrings of darkness that went unrecognized until too late. But those memories carried their own poison.

“Or,” the Elder Willow suggested, reading his thoughts, “you could show him what's possible. The harmony that existed before fear took root. The power of trust freely given and honored.”

“Those memories make us more vulnerable, not less,” Thorne protested.

“There is a third path.” The Elder Willow's voice held ancient certainty. “Show him both, not as observed scenes, but through your direct experience. Let him feel what it meant to trust, and what it cost to have that trust broken.”

The council chamber erupted in concerned whispers. What the Elder Willow suggested went beyond simple dream-sharing. It would require Thorne to lower every barrier he'd built over centuries, to make himself as vulnerable as he'd been before the betrayal.

“That's suicide,” Rowan said bluntly. “The entity would have direct access to both your powers, your emotions, everything that gives it strength.”

“Yes,” the Elder Willow agreed. “And that very vulnerability might be what finally breaks its power. Some poisons can only be drawn out by first admitting how deeply they've wounded us.”

Dawn light crept into the chamber as Thorne wrestled with the choice. Each option carried devastating risks. Show too little, and Silas might stumble blindly into the shadow's trap. Show toomuch, and they might give the entity exactly what it needed to manifest fully.

But there was something else, something he hadn't admitted even to himself. In that first shared dream, he'd felt Silas's genuine desire to understand, to heal rather than command. So different from Marcus's carefully hidden ambition.

“I'll do it,” he said finally. “The full sharing. But we need to strengthen the grove's barriers first. If this goes wrong”

“If this goes wrong, none of our barriers will matter anyway,” the Elder Willow finished. “Sometimes the only way forward is through our deepest fears.”

The council dissolved as the first true rays of sunlight pierced the canopy. Each ancient spirit departed with their own concerns, their own preparations to make. Soon only Thorne and the Elder Willow remained in the chamber.

“You know what this might cost,” she said softly.

“Yes.” Thorne watched his own form shift between shadow and substance, still unstable from just one night of sharing. “But you're right. The cycle has to break somewhere. And maybe it's fitting that it breaks through trust freely given, even knowing it might be betrayed again.”

The Elder Willow's smile held centuries of wisdom. “Or perhaps knowing that this time, it won't be.”

12

MORNING REVELATION

Silas hadn't really slept after the dream-memory faded, but he hadn't fully woken either. He existed in some strange in-between state, watching dawn creep across his chamber while the key rested warm and alive in his palm. Everything looked different now, as if the dream had adjusted his vision somehow.

The carved figures on his bed posts stood out in sharp relief, more real than they'd seemed yesterday. Morning light painted patterns across his floor that reminded him of how forest magic had flowed in the dream. Most striking were the frost patterns still etched on his windows, exactly matching the designs he'd watched Marcus and Thorne create together.

The key pulsed gently against his skin, responding to his thoughts. After experiencing how his ancestor had used it, the metal's warmth felt less alien, more like recognizing an old friend. But there was something else too, something new awakening in both the artifact and himself.

A knock interrupted his contemplation. “Breakfast,” Kai called. “Since you're obviously awake at this ungodly hour”His friend pushed open the door, then stopped dead, nearly dropping the tray he carried. “Uh, Silas?”

“What?”

“You're glowing.”

“I'm what?” Silas looked down at himself but saw nothing unusual.

---