Page 49 of Eternal Thorns

He read one entry.

M. pushed too hard today. Says he only wants to understand deeper magics, but there's a hunger in his questions that troubles me. Am I seeing problems where none exist? After coming so far, can I trust my own doubts?

Reading these words while feeling echoes of Thorne's memories made the tragedy's slow unfolding almost unbearable. Their trust hadn't shattered in one dramatic moment - it had frayed gradually, through small choices that prioritized power over partnership.

“The shadow entity was already influencing things, wasn't it? Even back then?”

Thorne's form flickered with surprise and reluctant approval.

Silas looked at one of Marcus’ Entry.

“We're creating something unprecedented. But T. holds back crucial knowledge, claims some powers aren't meantfor human understanding. How can there be true trust with such limitations?”

The shadow's fingerprints were clearly visible now that Silas knew to look for them. How it had twisted natural caution into paranoia, ambition into hunger, protection into control.

“You both thought you were protecting something valuable,” Silas said quietly, looking up at Thorne. “But the shadow entity used that very desire to drive you apart.”

The chamber's flowing symbols seemed to slow, as if the space itself held its breath.

Silas turned to the journal's final pages, where Thorne's elegant script filled the parchment alone. Marcus's bold hand was conspicuously absent, suggesting these entries came after whatever final break had separated them.

Thorne had written, the ink bearing traces of preserved grief.

I see now what I couldn't then. The breaking point wasn't a single moment of betrayal, but a fundamental misunderstanding that grew too deep to bridge. M. came to see the key as a tool for accessing forest magic - a means of controlling powers he believed were his right to wield. But that was never its purpose.

The key pulsed warmly against Silas's chest as he read, its resonance suggesting recognition of its own true nature.

The key was meant to be a symbol of reciprocal stewardship. Not mastery, but partnership. Notcontrol, but connection. M.'s desire to possess rather than participate poisoned everything we built. And I, in my pride, failed to see how my own fears of losing control mirrored his hunger to gain it.

Silas felt the truth of it deep in his bones. He'd been unconsciously approaching forest magic differently from his ancestor. He was not seeking to direct its power, but to understand its nature. Every interaction had been about listening rather than commanding, learning rather than controlling.

He felt Thorne’s pain at remembering what was lost warred with hope at seeing it understood properly. Fear of repeated betrayal tangled with desperate wish for genuine partnership.

The final entry sprawled across two pages, written in both human script and forest symbols that seemed to move even as Silas read them:

To whoever finds this truth - understand that the key's power lies not in what it can do, but in what it represents. It is not a tool for wielding forest magic, but a bridge between ways of seeing. Not a weapon to be claimed, but a promise to be honored. Choose wisely which truth you will make it serve.

Every interaction he'd had with forest magic since arriving at Thornhaven suddenly made new sense.

“I've been doing it right by accident,” he said quietly, looking up at Thorne. “Because I never thought about controlling it in the first place. I just wanted to understand.”

The chamber's magical symbols flowed faster now. They formed patterns that matched the key's engravings exactly.

“That's why the forest responds to me differently,” Silas realized. “Not because I'm special or more talented, but because I'm approaching it the way it was meant to be approached all along. The way Marcus forgot to maintain.”

The shadow entity's influence pressed harder against the chamber's barriers, desperate to corrupt this moment of clarity. But the truth, once recognized, proved stronger than any twisted perception.

“The choice isn't about whether to trust,” he said, meeting Thorne's ancient gaze. “It's about remembering what trust was meant to serve in the first place.”

The guardian's response came not in words but in a flood of emotion through their connection. The message was clear: understanding truth didn't guarantee acting on it correctly.

Everything hinged on what they chose to do with this understanding.

The only question was whether guardian and heir were ready to choose that possibility over the bitter certainty of maintained division.

17

ECHOES OF CHANGE

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