Page 17 of Eternal Thorns (The Feybound Chronicles #1)

16

TRUTH IN SHADOW

T he guardian's form wavered, but his eyes remained steady. Unlike their confrontation in the manor, no anger burned in that ageless gaze. Instead, Silas saw a deep, complicated wariness threaded through with something that looked dangerously like hope.

“Don't move,” Kai whispered urgently beside him. “Or run. Running might be good too.”

But Silas barely heard him. The key against his chest and the bracelet, responded to Thorne's presence. Forest magic swirled around them, adjusting its patterns until everything resonated in perfect harmony.

Fragments of Thorne's emotional state bled through. Centuries of carefully maintained pain warred with an almost desperate desire to trust again. The conflict felt like watching ice crack in spring.

“Is he going to kill us or recruit us?”

“Neither,” Silas said quietly. “He's waiting to see what we'll do.”

He studied Thorne's partially manifested state. This wasn't just a test - it was an offering.

He lowered his hand from the oak's entrance, stepping back slightly to demonstrate he understood the unspoken message. Not rejection, but acknowledgment of proper boundaries.

Shadows softened from threatening to simply mysterious. Ancient branches creaked and swayed, their movements feeling less like warning and more like consideration. Even the sprites, who had scattered at Thorne's appearance, began cautiously returning to their perches.

Silas made his own choice. He kept his movements deliberate and calm as he stepped away from the oak entirely, choosing to meet Thorne's test with one of his own. Trust freely given in exchange for trust cautiously offered.

The guardian's form stabilized slightly, suggesting Silas had chosen correctly.

Now they just had to figure out how to begin that conversation without shattering the delicate balance they'd achieved. The next move would determine whether this moment became a beginning or an ending.

He knew exactly what this moment required.

“What are you doing?” Kai asked as Silas knelt beside the ancient oak.

“Getting answers.”

Silas placed his hand carefully against the tree's bark. The bracelet's symbols aligned perfectly with matching marks carved into the wood. Through his enhanced awareness, he felt the rightness of this gesture.

This was how forest magic should be approached. Not demanded, not claimed, but requested with proper respect for its sovereign nature.

The effect on Thorne was immediate and startling. The guardian's form flickered violently. Silas caught fragments of memory. It was of Marcus performing this same gesture, but with that subtle undertone of entitled expectation that colored all his interactions with forest magic.

Silas kept his own request simple and clear, acknowledging both the forest's authority and his position as one seeking to restore rather than possess. The bracelet grew warm against his wrist, its symbols pulsing with silver light that matched patterns in the oak's ancient bark.

The forest's response surged through him like a rising tide. The oak's magic harmonized perfectly with the key's power, creating resonances that spread through the entire grove. More surprisingly, Thorne's form gained substance, drawing closer despite obvious reluctance.

“It's actually working.” Kai breathed.

But something else stirred in the gathering darkness. Shadow pooled unnaturally deep around them, taking shapes that seemed to drink in even starlight.

Such precious symmetry, it whispered, its voice sliding between memory and present. Guardian and heir, reaching across division once again. Shall we show you how beautifully that ended last time?

The shadows twisted, distorting Silas's perception. Thorne's image flickered between what he was now and what he had been.

Remember the cost of trust, the shadow crooned. Remember how hope feels when it shatters.

Memories crashed through their shared awareness. But now each scene carried heavy emphasis on moments of doubt, lingering on subtle signs that predicted betrayal.

As he watched the shadow entity weave its manipulations, he noticed something crucial. Every moment of friendship it showed while trying to emphasize betrayal had been real once.

“You can only work with truth,” he said aloud, the realization cutting through shadow's influence. “You can twist perspectives but not create them. Which means every vision of trust you're using to hurt us was genuine.”

The entity's frustration manifested as deepening darkness, but Silas felt its grip on their perceptions weaken. Thorne's form stabilized further, his own understanding adding strength to Silas's insight.

“The shadow shows us what it thinks will hurt most,” Silas continued, keeping his hand pressed to the oak's bark. “But it's actually proving something different - that real trust existed before. That connection was possible once, which means it could be possible again.”

Fool, the shadow hissed. We show you truth's bitter end.

“No,” Silas said quietly. “You show us what trust looked like before fear poisoned it. Every memory you use to emphasize betrayal first has to show what was worth betraying.”

The key's warmth spread through his chest while the bracelet's symbols brightened. Together they created a kind of light that pushed back the unnatural darkness.

“The memories aren't warnings,” Silas realized, looking directly at Thorne now. “They're proof - of what we could rebuild, if we choose to learn from the past rather than just fear it.”

Silas once again felt the complex tangle of Thorne's response.

The forest itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what they would make of this moment of mutual understanding. The ancient oak's magic pulsed steady and strong, offering its strength to whoever proved worthy of trust's true nature.

The choice hung between them like dawn waiting to break.

After what felt like an eternity, Thorne gave a barely perceptible nod. The permission wasn't spoken, but Silas felt it through their growing connection - not enthusiasm, but acceptance of necessity.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, pressing the key to a nearly invisible seam in the oak's bark.

The response was immediate and extraordinary. Light spiraled out from the point of contact, following patterns that had been carved into the tree centuries ago. A door materialized in the trunk - not just an opening in wood, but a threshold between physical and magical reality.

“That's not possible,” Kai whispered, staring at the space beyond. “It's bigger on the inside than what it actually is.”

The space within the oak existed somewhere between worlds, its walls alive with flowing symbols that moved like fish in a magical current. Each mark told part of a larger story - humans and forest spirits working together, sharing knowledge, building something greater than either could achieve alone.

The second journal waited at the chamber's center, resting on a pedestal of living wood that seemed to grow and shift even as they watched. Its cover matched the first journal's bark-like texture, but this one shimmered with preserved magic that made the key pulse warmly in response.

“This wasn't just a hiding place,” Silas said softly, turning to take in the entire chamber.

Thorne moved closer, his form more substantial within this protected space. Silas caught fragments of the guardian's memories here.

The shadow entity's darkness pressed against the chamber's threshold but couldn't enter. Still, its influence seeped through their emotional responses to these revelations, trying to taint wonder with worry and recognition with fear.

“May I?” Silas gestured to the journal, maintaining the formal courtesy that had got them this far.

Thorne's nod came quicker this time, though tension radiated from his partially manifested form. As Silas opened the journal, he understood why.

The pages held two distinct hands - Thorne's elegant script intertwined with Marcus's bolder strokes, creating a conversation across time. Their personal accounts documented not just what happened between them, but how it felt as it unfolded.

Silas read what Marcus had written.

First real lesson today, T. finally trusted me enough to show basic forest magic. Says I have natural talent, but more importantly, the right instincts for working with rather than against the grove's nature.

Beneath it was Thorne's response:

The human shows surprising sensitivity to magical currents. More importantly, he asks the right questions - not how to control, but how to understand. Perhaps there's hope for rebuilding what was lost between our peoples.

As Silas read, Thorne drew closer still, his presence both warning and witness. The journal revealed how their partnership developed through small moments of proven faith. The key's forging hadn't been one grand gesture, but the culmination of countless choose to trust despite risk.

Silas continued reading Thorne’s response.

The forging requires both magics in perfect harmony. Human craft providing structure while forest power offers depth. The key will be more than just a tool - it will be proof that our peoples can create wonders together.

But as the accounts continued, subtle changes crept in. Marcus's entries showed growing preoccupation with power rather than partnership. Thorne's responses carried increasing notes of concern.

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 meant for 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. Not control, 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.