The forest grew darker, not because night had fallen, but because something deeper stirred. The trees whispered among themselves, sharing secrets in a tongue only the oldest leaves remembered. The air was thick with magic and memory, heavy like mist before the rain.
Elowen moved through it slowly, every step weighted by what she had endured at the Thorn-Faced Gate. The mist still clung to her thoughts, and pain pulsed softly at the base of her skull. But something in her had shifted—something quiet and new. She felt stronger. Sharper. Her heartbeat no longer feared the silence. She could listen now.
Ashen followed behind, his footfalls almost too quiet. There was a tension in him that hadn't been there before, a coiled shadow inside his frame. He kept glancing around, as if the trees might be listening.
Finally, she stopped.
"You haven't spoken since we passed through," she said without turning. "Are you afraid?"
Ashen hesitated. "Not of this place."
She turned to him. His eyes were dark, but not from malice. From memory.
"Then what?"
He looked down. "Of you."
Elowen blinked.
Ashen sighed and sat on a low stone half-buried in moss. "You passed the Thorn Gate. No one ever has. Not in all the records I've read. Not in any of the dreams I've stolen. But you did. And it changed you."
"Changed?"
"You're... more awake now. Your magic isn't just blood-deep anymore. It's singing from your bones. It frightens me."
Elowen sat across from him. "Then tell me why you really came. I can feel it now—your guilt. You carry it like armor."
Ashen swallowed. "Fine. You deserve to know. I didn't find you by accident. I was sent."
Elowen's breath caught. "By whom?"
"The Veiled Order," he said. "A cult bound to the god Aeron."
She felt the forest itself lean in.
"I was trained by them, shaped to serve him. My role was to locate you and lead you through the first gates—but not to help you succeed. Just enough to make you think I was loyal. Just enough for them to catch up."
The words cut deeper than any thorn.
Elowen stood, shaking. "You lied to me. From the beginning."
"Yes," he said. "But I changed my mind. When I saw who you were, how you looked at the trees, how you listened to the wind, how you cared. You weren't the threat they feared. You were the hope they abandoned."
She backed away, the star-fragment at her chest glowing faintly.
Ashen looked up, tears brimming. "Please. I betrayed them for you. I broke the vow that bound my blood. I know it's not enough. But I meant it when I said I would follow you. Even now. Even after this."
Elowen said nothing. Her magic stirred, whispering old names. Her blood hummed with power and warning.
Then she turned and walked forward.
Ashen stood, breath caught.
She spoke without looking back. "Come, then. But know this—if you ever betray me again, I will not hesitate."
They walked for hours in silence.
The trees around them grew stranger. Some had no bark, only smooth silver skin that shimmered like moonlight. Others wept dark sap that glowed faintly in the shadows. The air grew colder. Their breaths came out in puffs of mist, and even the birds had fallen silent.
Suddenly, a shape loomed ahead. Not another gate, but a shrine.
It was ancient—older than the forest itself. Built from obsidian and bone, twisted together with ivy that pulsed with blue veins. Runes shimmered across its surface, some broken, some still burning with old power.
Elowen stepped closer.
"This wasn't on the path before," Ashen whispered.
"It reveals itself only to those who remember," Elowen murmured, voice not entirely her own.
Ashen shivered. "Who said that?"
Elowen didn't answer.
She placed a hand on the shrine. Light flared. Images burst behind her eyes:
A cradle carved from root and flame.
A crown broken into seven shards.
A face made of stars and sorrow.
Then the light faded.
A whisper rode the wind:
"The third gate opens with grief. Prepare your heart."
Elowen stepped back. Her hand trembled.
Ashen caught her. "What did you see?"
"Everything I didn't want to."
High above them, in a temple woven from lightning and sky, Aeron watched.
"She remembers more than she should," he said to the shadows around him. "And yet... she does not hate him. Not yet."
The god's fingers traced the outline of a mirror made of blood.
He smiled.
"Soon."