Chapter 3
R hian’s chest lifted beneath my hands, as he dragged in a thin, ragged breath.
Relief weakened my arms, but I kept both palms pressed beneath his ribs and bowed my head over him, watching for the next rise of his chest.
Around us, the warning whistles faded deeper into the trees. New calls rose before the last had vanished, sharper and more measured now as they passed from one patrol route to the next.
Then, the cadence shifted.
Every Thornwarden knew that summons.
Return to the Grove.
I dragged two blood-slick fingers across the cleanest part of my tunic before pressing them to my lips. Rhian’s blood still smeared faintly across my mouth as I forced an answering whistle through my aching throat. The note cracked before it cleared the nearest oak.
A raw burn scraped down my throat when I swallowed. I tried to draw enough air for another call, but Bramble crawled beneath my arm before I could raise my hand again.
His narrow body trembled against mine, every strand of fur lifted along his spine. I gathered him close the way I had when he was a kit, small enough to sleep beneath my collar with his paws tangled in my braid.
A fragile warmth fluttered through our bond, followed by the familiar pull of home.
Then his ears twitched.
From somewhere north of us, another whistle carried clearly between the trees. Another answered before the final note had faded.
“They heard us.”
I tucked Bramble against Rhian’s neck and leaned over my friend again.
“Stay with me, Rhi...”
His lashes didn’t so much as twitch.
Instead, his chest hitched through another ragged breath before slowly falling again.
Bramble pressed his nose beneath Rhian’s jaw. His fear fluttered through our bond each time Rhian managed another shallow breath.
Then his body went rigid, ears angling toward the northern side of the clearing. The ground trembled as branches broke just beyond the treeline.
My blade still lay where the monster had thrown it.
I spotted the dark blade near the base of the other oak and dragged myself toward it, biting back a wince as my injured thigh scraped over the torn ground. My fingers had barely closed around the bone hilt when movement stirred in the brush.
The massive head of a grizzly bear shoved through the trees.
Ivy ran beside her, one of the Thornwardens answering our call. The bear’s shoulder nearly reached hers, dark fur standing in ridges along her spine as they broke through the undergrowth together. A pale scar crossed Sula’s broad muzzle where it pressed close to Ivy’s arm.
Ivy kept one hand buried in the thick fur behind her ear, maintaining the contact between them even as roots and fallen branches broke their stride.
They were Kindred.
Sula had chosen Ivy as Bramble had chosen me.
Two other Thornwardens followed close behind them.
Perrin carried a narrow sling between both hands, the dead weight inside dragging low as the stench of rot and scorched metal rolled from it.
Beside him, another male moved with his blade drawn and the living vines along one forearm stretched loose from his skin, ready to strike.
Ivy dropped beside Rhian as soon as they reached us. Sula stayed close at her shoulder, breath coming hard as her dark eyes swept over the smoking roots and the ash where the creature had fallen.
“How long has he been unconscious?” Ivy pressed two fingers beneath Rhian’s jaw.
“I don’t know.” I kept one hand firm over the packing beneath his ribs. “He was awake when the rupture opened. I was trying to close it, and when I looked back, he wouldn’t respond.”
Her fingers stilled against his pulse.
Beside her, Sula lifted her head. A low growl rolled through her chest as she stared at the scorched ground between the oaks, nose testing the air.
Ivy looked up. “The what?”
“Rupture.” My mouth had gone dry. “I don’t know what else to call it. The air split open between those trees, and something came through.”
Her gaze shifted toward the blackened roots. One hand settled near the bone hilt at her side.
“Came through from where?”
Silver trees flashed through my mind, stripped bare beneath that thorn-covered moon.
“I don’t know.” I swallowed. “Somewhere beyond Elderen. Another realm, maybe.”
Sula pressed against her keeper, her claws digging into the moss.
Ivy’s gaze snapped back to Rhian. “Is that what did this?”
“No. It was something smaller. It attacked him before the air split open.”
Her hand moved from Rhian’s pulse toward the blood-soaked yarrow.
The Thornwarden holding the sling looked at me. He lowered it onto a patch of bare stone. Indigo fluid had dried across the leather in iridescent streaks, the edges curling away from it.
A narrow gray body lay inside, no larger than Bramble. Its limbs had drawn tight against its belly, and a long tail curved around paws tipped with dark claws. Indigo light shimmered beneath its closed lids with the same cold silver sheen that had flooded the animal that had attacked Rhian.
Bramble released a low hiss.
I shifted closer. “Where did you find it?”
“Northern boundary.” The male touched the flint blade at his hip. Black residue crusted its chipped edge. “It came out of nowhere.”
My gaze moved from the dead animal to the trees behind them. “Did you see another rupture in the air?”
They glanced at one another and shook their heads. “No.”
The answer landed harder than the creature’s weight against my chest.
Ivy pulled the blood-soaked packing from beneath my hands and replaced it with a folded strip from her satchel. She nodded toward another bandage in her satchel and then at my thigh.
I dragged the clean strip free and wrapped it around my thigh, pulling it tight enough to narrow my vision while Ivy finished binding Rhian’s wound.
“We heard the warning, then found that thing nearly half the forest away.” Her bear pressed closer until thick fur brushed her shoulder. A shudder ran through the animal’s body.
Ivy’s hand tightened in the fur behind Sula’s ear. “More are coming. We passed two patrols on the northern road. Both found creatures carrying the same light.”
Fire surged through my closed fist.
One of the guardians pressed their hands into the soil. Roots rose beside Rhian and wove themselves into a narrow litter.
They lifted Rhian onto it, and Bramble scrambled onto his chest before anyone could stop him, planting himself beneath Rhian’s chin. Bramble’s tail covered the torn collar of Rhian’s tunic, though his body remained fixed and rigid over every uneven inhale and exhale.
I caught one of the vine handles.
The male across from me glanced at the bandage hanging loose around my bloody thigh. “We can carry him.”
“So can I.”
My knee folded beneath the first pull.
The Mother Tree rose under my boot and steadied me long enough to lock my leg. Pain pulsed from my leg into my hip, but the litter remained level between my hands.
The guardian’s mouth tightened. He started west without arguing again.
Ivy took the leather sling containing the dead animal. Her bear moved beside her with one flank pressed to the guardian’s hip, close enough that each stride pushed them together.
More Thornwardens emerged from the branching paths as we moved west. Blood streaked one guardian’s shoulder, and another carried his badger Kindred against his chest while its claws dug through his cloak.
Murmurs followed each patrol into our path. A misshapen fox had attacked near the western stream. Something small and gray had lunged at a guardian beside the northern springs. Indigo had flashed behind their eyes before they died.
No one spoke of another world staring back through the trees, or a male on the other side wielding starlight like a blade.
Ivy walked beside the litter with one hand pressed above Rhian’s wound. Verdant light moved through the vines along her wrist and sank beneath the blood-soaked packing.
Rhian’s next breath came deeper.
My grip tightened around the woven roots. “What did you do?”
“Easy, friend. I just slowed the bleeding and steadied his heart.” Sweat gathered along her brow as she kept her palm in place. “I trained as a healer before I took my vows.”
As a Thornwarden, she meant.
Anyone who chose to guard the Deepwood surrendered every claim that might stand above it. Kin, loyalty, love. I had spoken the same words beneath the Mother Tree while fresh ink burned along my arms.
Purpose: Protect the forest.
Duty: Protect the Circle.
Above all, protect the Veil .
Once the vow was spoken, nothing came before the forest.
“It will hold until we get him to the infirmary.”
The tightness beneath my ribs eased enough for a full breath to pass through.
Above us, thorns continued spreading across the moon. Their hooked shadows stretched between the trees while pale light narrowed behind them.
Every path leading to the Grove had become a river of people. Thornwardens, healers, gatherers, artisans, elders, and frightened families hurried from settlements scattered throughout the Deepwood. Kindred pressed close among them, fur, feathers, and hooves filling the path.
More and more faces lifted to the moon.
The First Roots rose from the earth long before we reached the Grove.
They climbed higher than any human wall, ancient trunks and branches twisting together into an unbroken living barrier around the heart of the Deepwood.
Massive archways opened between the roots, wide enough for carts and patrols to pass, their woven limbs already drawing apart to admit the flood of returning Druids.
Beyond them, the Mother Tree towered above the canopy.
Her trunk was broad enough that a dozen Stoneborn giants could not have circled it hand in hand. Deep brown bark folded over itself in ridges worn smooth by time, and warm amber light moved beneath it in slow, steady pulses, glowing through every split and hollow like sap lit by the sun.
Her branches spread across the sky in every direction, while her roots vanished beneath the Grove and carried the Wild throughout the Deepwood.
Every Druid child learned that life had first stirred beneath her roots.
That the first breath had risen through her soil.
That the Wild had begun inside her.
And as long as the Mother Tree endured, so would the Deepwood. The life she sustained reached far beyond our borders, feeding the lands of Elderen in ways most would never see.
Grove healers rushed to meet us before we had even crossed the threshold.
Ivy lifted her hand from Rhian’s side. The green light beneath her vines faded, and his breathing remained slow but steady.
“He is stable for now.” She stepped aside as the healers took her place. “Though the wound is deeper than it appears, and something…” Her brows drew together. “Something cold is pressing against his Wild.”
My fingers tightened around the litter handle. Cold.
I remembered the chill beneath Rhian’s blood, so faint I had dismissed it almost as soon as I felt it.
The Wild was life. It had always carried warmth. Even beneath frozen ground, it was always there, waiting.
Bramble bared his teeth when they reached for Rhian.
I caught him around the middle before he could strike. His body twisted in my hands, claws reaching after Rhian while a broken chirr scraped from his throat.
“They’re helping him.” I pulled my pine marten against my chest and pressed my cheek into the soft fur between his ears until some of the tension left his body.
Together, we watched the healers carry our best friend toward the infirmary beneath the Mother Tree. Warm amber light flowed through her ancient bark as living roots peeled apart, revealing a passage below.
Bramble’s claws dug into my chest as his body went taut.
“They’re helping him,” I soothed again.
The Mother Tree sealed the passage behind them.
Bramble burrowed closer, his claws still caught in my shirt. I held him tighter.
The words had been meant to calm him, but I couldn’t make them settle the fear twisting beneath my ribs.