Page 7 of Eternal Thorns (The Feybound Chronicles #1)

6

THE WITCH

S unlight crept through frost-etched windows, turning Silas's bedroom into something from a winter fairy tale. If fairy tales included magical home invasions and ancient forest guardians with vendettas against your bloodline.

“So,” Kai said, poking one of the scorch marks where the key's light had manifested. “We're definitely leaving, right? Like, immediately?”

Silas traced a frost pattern on the window - perfect spirals and branches that defied natural ice formation. “We can't.”

“Can't, or won't?” When Silas didn't answer, Kai threw his hands up. “Right, stupid question. Of course you won't. Because that would be the sensible response to being threatened by some antlered shadow creature with a grudge.”

“He said I have until the full moon.”

“To what? Get murdered by the haunted forest?” Kai gestured at the bed posts where the carved figures stood frozen in new positions, like dancers caught mid-step. “Because I've got to tell you, that's not really improving the situation.”

The key pulsed warm against Silas's chest, gentle but insistent. Like a compass needle finding north, he felt himself drawn toward the library. His grandmother's warning echoed in his mind: The forest remembers the Ashworth name, and not fondly .

“My grandmother. She knew something like this would happen.”

“That's not making me feel better about the situation.”

“I need to understand what happened here.” Silas started for the door. “What my family did that was so terrible it earned us the forest's hatred.”

“Okay, counter proposal.” Kai stepped in front of him. “We pack our shit, ride south, and never speak of this again. Maybe become merchants in some nice, forest-free coastal town.”

But Silas was already moving past him, following the key's warmth and the light's guidance. The manor felt different in morning sunlight - less threatening, more like it was trying to reveal something. Even the dust motes dancing in the air seemed to be creating patterns, if he could just figure out how to read them.

“You're not even listening to me, are you?” Kai hurried to catch up. “This is exactly how people die in ghost stories. Following mysterious lights, ignoring their completely reasonable friends who suggest maybe not doing that.”

“You don't have to stay.”

“Don't be an idiot.” Kai's voice held equal parts affection and exasperation. “Of course I'm staying. Someone has to make sure you don't get yourself killed by angry tree spirits.”

The library doors stood open, light spilling across the threshold. Inside, dust motes danced in shafts of colored light from the stained glass windows, painting the room in jewel tones that seemed to shift and move of their own accord. The massive space felt different in daylight. Towering shelves stretched up two stories, their carved wooden faces depicting scenes of forests and creatures that seemed to ripple in Silas's peripheral vision.

“There's something here,” he muttered, pressing what felt like a carved leaf. A soft click rewarded him, and a narrow panel slid back, revealing a stack of yellowed letters.

“More secret compartments?” Kai peered over his shoulder. “Your family really needs to invest in some normal furniture.”

Silas carefully extracted the letters. The paper felt delicate but thrummed with a strange energy, similar to the key's warmth. His hands shook slightly as he unfolded the first one.

“These are from my great-great-grandmother.” The elegant handwriting was unmistakable - he'd seen it in family records. But the person she wrote to signed only with a symbol that made the key grow hot against his chest. The same mark was etched into its surface.

“My dearest friend,” he read aloud, “The bargain cannot be undone, but perhaps it can be amended. What was meant as sacred trust has become poison in the wrong hands. Both realms suffer for our family's pride...”

“Both realms?” Kai asked. “What does that mean?”

But Silas had found something else among the letters.

His breath caught as he opened it. There on the yellowed pages was Thorne, rendered in exquisite detail. The same otherworldly features, the same shifting markings across his skin. But these drawings showed someone entirely different from the vengeful spirit who'd appeared in his bedroom.

Here was Thorne smiling, teaching what appeared to be forest magic to a young woman in Ashworth dress. Another sketch showed him helping to forge something that looked suspiciously like Silas's key, power flowing between human and fey hands. Page after page revealed a different story than the one Thorne had told last night.

“That's him? But he looks so... different compared to what you described him as.” Kai observed.

“Happy,” Silas said quietly. “He looks happy.”

The key pulsed warmly, as if confirming something. Silas spread the letters across a nearby table, trying to piece together their story. References to a bargain, a betrayal, something that “cost both realms dearly” repeated throughout the correspondence.

“I'm going to check the foundations,” Kai said after a while, restless from sitting still too long. “Make sure your haunted house isn't about to collapse on us. You good here?”

Silas nodded, already absorbed in another letter. Kai's footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving him alone with the ghostly remnants of a relationship that had somehow gone terribly wrong.

He'd barely made it through two more pages when Kai's voice echoed up from below. “Silas! You need to see this!”

Setting aside the letters, he followed his friend's voice to find him at the cellar stairs, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “So I was checking the foundation, you know, making sure your haunted house isn't about to collapse on us, and I found something weird.”

“Weirder than everything else this morning?”

“Maybe?” Kai led the way down stone steps that looked oddly new compared to the rest of the manor. “Look at this door.”

The cellar door matched the unusual one in the library exactly - the same foreign style, the same strange construction that seemed to defy normal architecture. As they approached, the key grew almost painfully hot.

“It's his magic,” Silas realized, recognizing the sensation from last night. “Thorne's power is worked into this somehow.”

“Okay, pause.” Kai held up a hand. “How are you so calm about all this? Magic isn't supposed to be real, yet here you are acting like it's perfectly normal.”

Silas touched the key absently. “Remember those summer visits to my grandmother? The ones you used to tease me about because I'd come back talking about strange lights in her garden?”

“The fairy stories?” Kai's eyes widened. “Wait, those were real?”

“She was preparing me, I think. Teaching me to see things others missed. The way shadows moved wrong sometimes, how certain objects seemed to hum with power.” Silas smiled slightly. “Why do you think she always insisted you come along too? She was preparing both of us.”

“That crafty woman. Kai shook his head. “So all those 'meditation exercises' she taught us”

“Were actually training us to sense magic, yes.” Silas turned back to the door, which bore the same symbol from the letters. When he finally gave in to the key's insistent warmth and pressed it to the lock, the entire manor seemed to shudder. The door remained shut, but a panel beside it slid away with a grinding sound.

“If a ghost jumps out, I'm leaving,” Kai announced. “Just so we're clear. Magic training or not.”

Instead of a ghost, the hidden space held a single book. Its cover appeared to be made of living bark, warm and smooth under Silas's fingers. The first page bore a single line of elegant script, written in ink that seemed to shimmer like starlight:

“To the Ashworth who would mend what was broken - begin here.”

“You know,” Kai said, watching his friend's face, “when your grandmother taught us those 'meditation exercises,' I don't think she was preparing us for quite this level of magical mystery.”

“Maybe she was.” Silas ran his fingers over the living bark of the book's cover. “Maybe she knew exactly what would happen when I came here.”

“Well then,” Kai straightened, trying to look braver than he felt, “I suppose we better start reading. Preferably somewhere with better lighting and fewer creepy magical doors.”

As they climbed the cellar stairs, the key's warmth spread through Silas's chest like hope - or maybe like the beginning of something that had been waiting centuries to unfold.

The crunch of footsteps on the gravel path pulled Silas's attention from the bark-bound book. Through the manor's front windows, he spotted an elderly woman approaching the gate with surprising steadiness, a large basket hanging from her arm. Her gray hair was tied back with herbs, and her practical dress bore stains that looked suspiciously like potion ingredients.

“We have company,” Kai said, already moving to block the door. “Please tell me you weren't expecting visitors at your haunted exile mansion.”

Before Silas could respond, the woman's voice carried clearly across the grounds. “You can stop plotting defensive positions, young man. If I meant harm, I wouldn't have used the front gate.”

She unlatched it herself, the iron that had felt so heavy to Silas swinging open at her light touch. As she drew closer, Silas noticed her eyes, they were clouded with age yet somehow seeing everything, including the key he wore beneath his shirt.

“Well,” she said, looking him up and down, “you're a bit scrawnier than I expected for the new guardian, but I suppose you'll do.” She thrust the basket at him. “Here. Protection charms, healing potions, and some decent tea. You'll need all three before this is done.”

Kai stepped forward. “I'm sorry, but who exactly are you?”

“The Witch of Blackbriar Hollow will do.” She brushed past them into the manor as if she owned it. “Though your grandmother still calls me Agnes, when she's not being formal.”

“You know my grandmother?” Silas followed her, noting how naturally she navigated the halls.

“Know her? I helped her hide that key you're wearing when everything went wrong the first time.” Agnes ran a hand along the wall, nodding at whatever she felt there. “The manor recognizes me. Good. Some magics have long memories, and not all of them are friendly these days.”

The key pulsed warmly, as if confirming her words. She noticed Silas's reaction and smiled.

“Ah, so it's already bonding with you. That's promising. The last three who tried to claim it didn't fare so well.”

“The last three?” Kai asked. “What happened to them?”

“Best not to dwell on that.” Agnes spotted the bark-bound book in Silas's hands and went very still. “So you found it already. The manor must trust you more than I thought.”

“Found it, yes.” Silas held it out. “But I'm not sure what it means. Or what any of this means, really. The forest guardian, Thorne, he said”

“I know what he said.” Agnes's clouded eyes somehow managed to look sharp. “I felt the disturbance in my bones when he confronted you. The whole forest shook with it.” She took the book, handling it with reverence. “But did you listen to what he didn't say? About why the betrayal hurt him so deeply? About what the key really means?”

Silas thought of the drawings they'd found, of Thorne smiling as he taught forest magic to an Ashworth ancestor. “There's more to the story than just betrayal, isn't there?”

“Much more.” Agnes handed the book back. “Your grandmother and I have waited years for an Ashworth to return who could not only bear the key, but use it properly. One who might actually be able to break this cycle of vengeance before it destroys both the forest and your bloodline.”

“What do you mean, destroys?” Kai demanded. “What's going to happen?”

Agnes moved to the window, gazing out at the Eldergrove. “The full moon approaches, and with it, a chance for either healing or final breaking.”

The key grew cold against Silas's chest. “Thorne said I have until the full moon to learn the truth about my family's crimes.”

“The truth?” Agnes laughed without humor. “Oh, child. The truth is just the beginning. You have until the full moon to do far more than that. You must understand not only what was broken, but how to mend it. And you must convince a being who has nursed his grief for centuries to believe in trust again.”

“That's impossible,” Kai said.

“Perhaps.” Agnes turned back to them, and for a moment her eyes cleared, showing depths of power that made Silas's key resonate. “But consider this - of all the Ashworths who might have come to Thornhaven, you're the first one the manor itself chose to help. The first one the key responded to not with rejection, but with recognition.”

She reached into her basket and pulled out a bundle of dried herbs bound with silver thread. “Burn these in the library when you read that book. They'll help you see past the words to the truths beneath them. And Silas?” Her expression softened slightly. “When you feel lost, remember - some magics are older than vengeance. Some bonds run deeper than betrayal.”

“Right,” Kai cleared his throat. “How about some tea? I'm sure we've got enough working appliances in the kitchen to manage that much at least.”

Agnes's eyes sparkled. “An excellent suggestion. I brought a special blend - good for clearing minds and strengthening spirits.”

The kitchen proved warmer than the rest of the manor, sunlight streaming through windows partially covered by climbing ivy. As Kai busied himself with the kettle, Agnes unpacked her basket. Strange herbs filled the air with scents Silas had never encountered - sharp and sweet and ancient all at once.

“Your grandmother used to sit right where you are now,” Agnes said, measuring leaves into cups. “Back when the boundary between worlds was less rigid, when Ashworths still knew their true purpose.”

“Which was what, exactly?”

“Balance.” Agnes accepted the hot water from Kai. “Your family wasn't meant to rule the forest or fight it - you were meant to bridge the gap between human and fey realms. That key you wear? It's not just a magical artifact. It's a symbol of cooperation, forged by both human craft and forest magic.”

Steam rose from their cups in shapes that seemed too intentional to be random. Silas watched as they formed patterns similar to the ones carved into the manor's woodwork.

“What went wrong?”

“Ah.” Agnes sighed. “The great question. A betrayal, certainly. But the details were deliberately obscured, buried by those who feared the truth more than its consequences.” She stirred her tea three times clockwise, then once counter-clockwise. “Though the poison of it lingers in both realms.”

Movement caught Silas's eye. The plants in Agnes's basket were shifting, their stems and leaves bending toward him like flowers tracking the sun. The key grew warm in response.

“The forest remembers,” Agnes said, noting his observation with obvious satisfaction. “What blood and bone have forgotten, the old magic recalls. Your very presence here stirs ancient powers.”

“You mean Thorne.”

“Among others.” She set down her cup. “That journal you found? It's one of three. Its siblings lie hidden within the Eldergrove itself. Together, they tell the complete story of what happened between your ancestor and the forest guardian.”

“Let me guess,” Kai said. “We have to go get them.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Agnes reached into her basket again, withdrawing something that seemed to writhe in her hands. “Entering the forest means risking more than just Thorne's wrath. Darker forces are stirring, drawn by your return and the key's awakening.”

She held out what appeared to be a charm made of twisted roots and silver wire. “This will help you see through forest glamour. More importantly, it will help you distinguish friend from foe. Not all that dwells in the Eldergrove shares Thorne's grudge against your line.”

Silas took the charm, feeling it pulse in sync with his key. “You speak as if you know him personally.”

“I know enough to recognize what happened last night for what it was.” Agnes's clouded eyes fixed on him with uncomfortable intensity. “His challenge wasn't mere threat - it was recognition. You bear more than just your ancestor's key, young guardian. You carry their face as well.” She stood, gathering her basket. “Let us hope you don't share their fate.”

“Wait,” Silas called as she moved toward the door. “What fate? What exactly happened to my ancestor?”

“That's not my story to tell.” She paused in the doorway. “But when you face Thorne again, look past his anger. Ask yourself why betrayal by an Ashworth hurt him deeply enough to poison his magic for centuries.”

After she'd gone, Silas found himself staring at his reflection in the kitchen window. The same sharp features he'd seen in family portraits, the gray eyes that appeared in so many Ashworth faces. But now he wondered - who exactly had Thorne seen when he looked at him last night? Whose betrayal still burned fresh enough to fuel centuries of grief?

“So,” Kai said, breaking the heavy silence. “I suppose this means we're going forest exploring soon?”

“We don't have to. This isn't your fight.”

“Maybe not.” Kai refilled their cups with the strange tea. “But someone needs to make sure you don't get yourself killed trying to fix your family's ancient magical drama. Besides,” he grinned, “how many chances do you get to help break a centuries-old curse?”

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.