Chapter 6
Chapter six
They ran until Briar's lungs burned and her legs trembled. The forest blurred past—ancient trees giving way to younger growth, then back to giants so vast their roots formed natural walls. The mark throbbed with each heartbeat, muted but angry, trapped and fighting against Arion's dampening spell.
The strange group moved with practiced efficiency.
Sian flowed between forms, sometimes solid beside them, sometimes a rushing current scouting ahead.
The siblings stayed close together, Halian's staff never leaving ready position despite his injury while Arion guided them with absolute certainty through paths Briar couldn't even see.
Finally, when she stumbled for the third time, this time over a root that seemed to appear where none existed before, he motioned for them to stop.
"Here," he said, pressing his palm against what looked like an ordinary oak. Briar watched in awe as the bark shimmered and split, revealing a hollow space within. "Quickly."
Briar hesitated. Trading one trap for another seemed foolish, but the mark pulsed harder, Thaine's words echoing: You've only made it worse.
"Unless you'd prefer to wait for him to catch up?" Ferria said sharply. "Because he will. That mark is practically a beacon."
"Ferria," Arion's voice carried a quiet warning.
"What? We're all thinking it." She gestured at Briar with one elegant hand. "Thaine was right. He'll come for her, and he won't come alone. We've exposed ourselves for what? A human who made a bad bargain?"
"That's enough." Halian spoke softly, but Ferria subsided with visible reluctance.
Briar felt heat rise in her cheeks. "I didn't ask for your help."
"No," Sian said, materializing fully beside her with a gentle smile. "But you needed it. Come on, let's take the arguments inside where it's warded. I'd rather not have this discussion where every tree has ears."
They filed through the opening. The space beyond defied physics—what should have been a cramped hollow opened into a comfortable chamber lit by some sourceless warm glow. Roots formed natural furniture, and the air smelled of sage and safety.
Briar sank onto what might have been a bench, exhaustion hitting with full force. The mark pulsed steadily, each throb a reminder. She pressed her hand against it, feeling the thorns shift beneath her skin. Still growing. Still claiming.
"Let me see," Halian said, setting aside his staff. His hands already glowed with soft green light.
"I said I'm fine—"
"The wound. Not the mark." He gestured to her wrist where blood had soaked through her sleeve. "I can't touch his magic, but I can heal what it damages."
She reluctantly extended her arm. His touch was thorough but gentle, the healing magic warm and soothing. The pain eased, wounds closing, but the mark remained unchanged.
"Why did you save me?" The question tumbled out before she could stop it. "You don't know me. I'm nothing to you except—what did she call it? A human who made a bad bargain."
"Ferria speaks from fear," Arion said, though the woman's expression suggested otherwise. "We've all lost people to him. The caution is... understandable."
"Caution?" Ferria laughed, the sound bitter. "Is that what we're calling it? We just declared war on the Forest King for a stranger. Do you have any idea what he'll—"
"I know exactly what he'll do." Arion's voice dropped, and for a moment Briar saw something dangerous flicker in those dawn-bright eyes. "I've watched him destroy everyone who defies him for—" He stopped, jaw tightening. "For too long."
"Longer than you know," Ferria muttered.
Halian finished with Briar's arm and moved to tend his own wound, but she caught the warning glance he shot his sister.
"The question remains," Sian said, perched on what might have been a table, legs swinging. "What do we do with her? The mark ties her to him. He'll always know where she is."
"We could hide her," Halian suggested. "The deep sanctuaries have old magic protecting them."
"They won't hold." Ferria shook her head. "Not against his full attention. And now that we've interfered, that's exactly what we'll have."
They discussed her like she wasn't there. Like she was a problem to be solved rather than a person. Briar's temper flared.
"I'll leave," she said loudly. "Problem solved. Point me toward the human world and—"
"You can't." Arion's quiet certainty cut through her words. "The mark won't let you. Even if you could find a path, the pain would drive you back. Or mad. Whichever came first. The Betweenlands don't give up their prey easily, neither does Eliam."
"Then what? I can't go home, can't run, can't—" She stopped, remembering Thaine's words about punishment, wings becoming leaves and consciousness trapped in bark. "He'll make an example of me."
"Yes," Ferria said simply. "He will. Unless..."
"Ferria." Arion's warning was sharper now.
"Unless what?" Briar demanded.
A sound cut through the chamber. Low and resonant, the earth itself groaning. The lights flickered. Dust fell from the root ceiling.
"He's found us," Halian breathed.
Another sound, closer now. Wood splitting. The walls shuddered.
"Impossible," Sian said, but her form flickered, edges going translucent with fear. "The wards—"
"Were made to hide from him," Arion said grimly, bow materializing in his hand. "Not to withstand his direct attention."
The mark on Briar's wrist flared to life. Not the muted burn of before but pure agony, thorns of fire racing up her arm. She gasped, doubling over.
Through the pain, she heard it. Felt it. A presence vast and dark and furious pressing against the sanctuary walls. And beneath the fury, something else that made her stomach flip despite the pain.
Anticipation.
He'd found her and he was coming to collect.
The walls stopped shuddering.
Silence pressed against her ears until the only sound was her heartbeat thudding too fast and too loud.
The mark throbbed in rhythm with it, a warm pulse that made her skin feel too tight.
She pressed her palm against it through her sleeve, but the heat seemed to seep through her fingers, spreading up her arm.
"He's here," Ferria whispered.
No one asked who. They all knew.
The sanctuary's warm light flickered once and then steadied, but the air had changed. Thicker now, carrying the taste of copper and rain-soaked earth. The forest finding a way to breathe through solid walls.
Briar struggled to breathe as she watched the others arrange themselves defensively.
Sian's form solidified fully, no longer allowing herself the comfort of fluidity.
Halian's knuckles went white around his staff.
Arion stepped forward, placing himself between her and the door that no longer felt like protection.
"The wards will hold," he said, uncertainty threading through his voice.
Something scraped against the outer wall. Soft and insistent. Fingernails or thorns dragging across wood. Testing. The sound traveled slowly around the perimeter of their sanctuary, and Briar found herself turning to follow its path.
It stopped directly behind her.
Little thief.
The words didn't come through her ears but bloomed inside her skull, dark and wanting. She bit down on her tongue to keep from gasping and tasted blood.
"He can't enter," Arion said firmly. To her or himself, she wasn't sure. "Not while the wards—"
Laughter. Not heard but felt, vibrating through the roots that formed their shelter. Low. Amused. Patient.
"Wards." Eliam's actual voice came from everywhere and nowhere, muffled by earth and wood but still clear enough to raise goosebumps along her arms. "Such faith you have in your little protections."
The scraping resumed. Circling. Hunting.
Briar found herself backing away from the walls, toward the center of the space. Her legs felt unsteady, muscles remembering their exhaustion. The mark pulsed harder, and with each throb, she felt an answering pull. Toward the walls. Toward him.
"Ignore it," Halian said quietly, noticing her unconscious movement. "It's what the mark does. Calls to its maker."
"Three days," Eliam continued, conversational tone at odds with the menace of his presence. "Three days I gave you, out of... let's call it nostalgia. And you ran." Another scrape, longer and deeper. "That wasn't very polite."
"I don't owe you politeness," Briar managed, though her voice came out rougher than intended.
"No?"
Something pressed against the wall nearest her. She could see the wood bow inward slightly, roots flexing. Not breaking but yielding, recognizing a higher authority.
"You owe me everything," he continued, still invisible beyond their shelter.
"Your life. Your sister's life. Every breath you've taken since leaving my forest has been borrowed.
And now? Stolen." The pressure on the wall increased.
A hairline crack appeared in the wood. "I've come to collect what's mine. "
"She's under our protection," Arion stated.
Another laugh, darker this time. "Protection. Yes, I can smell your magic on her, brightling. Temporary little spells trying to muffle what's mine." The crack widened. "Tell me, Arion, when you touched her, did you feel it? That she belongs elsewhere?"
Heat flooded Briar's face. The way he said 'touched' made it sound intimate and possessive. Arion's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.
"Nothing to say? How disappointing." The wall bowed further. Not violent, just steady pressure. "Perhaps you'd like to explain why you interrupted my huntsman? He was only doing his job."
"Your huntsman was dragging an unwilling woman through the forest," Sian interjected, water beginning to swirl around her fingers.
"My huntsman was retrieving my property." The temperature dropped. "There's a difference."
The mark flared hot enough to make Briar hiss through her teeth. Her knees wavered, and she locked them, refusing to fall. But her body swayed toward the cracking wall, pulled by invisible threads.