Page 7 of Eternal Thorns

“Those all sound like excellent reasons to leave, actually.”

Despite his words, Kai dismounted as well, leading his horse forward. The rusted gates loomed before them, their elaborate ironwork forming patterns similar to the ones carved into the trees they'd seen in the village.

Silas reached for the gate with his free hand. The moment his fingers touched the metal, the key against his chest pulsed once,hard enough to make him gasp. Heat flared through his palm into the gate, and somewhere deep in the manor, something responded. A sound like distant chimes rang out, felt more than heard.

“Tell me you heard that,” Kai said.

“I heard it.” Silas pushed the gate open. It swung silently on hinges that should have screamed with rust.

They crossed the threshold together, leading their nervous horses up the drive. As they passed beneath the first row of watching gargoyles, Silas glanced back at the Eldergrove. In the deepening twilight, he could have sworn he saw movements among the trees - shapes that vanished when looked at directly, leaving only the impression of eyes and antlers and things that should not be.

The key gave one final pulse of warmth, then went cold again. Above them, the crows had settled back onto their perches along the tower. Their black eyes followed the newcomers' progress toward the manor's front steps, where decades of dust and secrets waited to be disturbed.

“Home sweet home,” Silas muttered, and somewhere in the gathering dark, he thought he heard the forest laugh.

3

THE FOREST WATCHES

Thorne found Briar in their usual training grove, her freckles strobing with barely contained frustration. The young sprite's magic flared erratically, sending confused patterns through evening air that made nearby twilight flowers close their petals in protest.

“I don't understand!” she burst out before he could speak. “The magic should respond! I'm doing everything right!”

“Are you?” His form shifted between solid and shadow as he circled her. “Or are you doing what you think is right?”

“There's a difference?”

“Only in everything that matters.” He gestured, and forest magic flowed like water finding its level. “Watch. Don't try to direct it. Just...”

“Let it be what it is?” Her tone carried centuries of shared lessons and gentle arguments. “Like you let yourself be what you are?”

His power stuttered, crown of branches casting strange shadows. Even after four centuries, she could still catch him off guard with her insight.

“That's not the lesson today, little spark.”

“Isn't it?” Her glow dimmed slightly. “You teach balance but maintain rigid control. Preach harmony while holding yourself apart.” She met his ancient eyes without fear. “Maybe I'm not the only one who needs to remember what magic truly is.”

The whispers reachedThorne first through the roots, then through the wind, then through the trembling leaves of his ancient oak throne. He stood motionless, bare feet pressed against bark that shifted beneath him like a living carpet, processing the forest's warnings. After centuries as guardian, he'd learned to read the Eldergrove's many voices. Today, they sang with discord.

Something was wrong at the border.

His markings flickered to life, patterns of silver light flowing across his skin like moonlight through canopy. The forest's magic responded instantly, amplifying his awareness until he could feel every rustling leaf, every creeping root, every drop of sap within his realm. The disturbance came into sharper focus.

Not trappers this time. Not lost travelers stumbling where they shouldn't. This was something else. Something that made the oldest trees, the ones who remembered the first betrayal, tremble in their rings.

“Return,” he commanded, his voice carrying on a sudden wind.

The crows came as summoned, his network of shadow-enhanced scouts descending through the canopy in a rush of dark wings. Their eyes glowed with traces of his magic as they landed, forming a black crown around his shoulders and the branches near his head. Their memories poured into him like ice water.

The manor. Of course it would be the manor.

Thornhaven Estate had stood abandoned for decades, its wards maintained by magic older than even his reign as guardian. Now it had occupants. Young men, by the crows' recollection. One dark-haired and noble-born, the other common stock. But it was the noble who made Thorne's markings flare with recognition.

“Impossible,” he breathed.

The wards around the manor were responding to the newcomer, recognizing something in his blood. Ancient magic, long dormant, stirred like a waking beast. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

Thorne extended his senses further, pushing against the boundary where his realm met the manor grounds. The magical barriers there, built to keep his kind separate from the human world, rippled at his touch. They felt different. Weaker in some places, but strangely strengthened in others, as if responding to a key they'd been waiting for.

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