Chapter 5
Chapter five
Thorne was a Mystic. And somehow, his father was involved in whatever the King was plotting. Gisela contemplated this as she wiped the sleep from her eyes the next morning. She slipped on one of her new dresses and braided her hair.
Muffled voices drifted from the kitchen, along with the enticing smell of breakfast.
Her stomach grumbled in response, and she left her room.
Her father, mother, Noah, and Vivi were already at the table eating breakfast. The clink of cutlery and hum of conversation filled the room.
Orion sat at the head, his focus lifting from his plate as she entered. “Good morning, Gisela. Nice of you to join us,” Orion said with a hint of sarcasm.
She offered a nervous smile.
“Morning, love,” Ivy said, giving her a curt nod.
The kitchen felt smaller, the usual warmth replaced by an uncomfortable tension between her parents. Wary glances passed between them.
Vivi played with a doll, ignoring her meal.
Gisela second-guessed bringing this up here but proceeded anyway. “Father, there’s something you should know.”
Orion’s fork paused mid-air.
Gisela’s palms prickled, and her stomach twisted with nerves.
He raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”
She swallowed hard. “The medicinal plants we use from the Snowdrifts . . . they’re wilting.”
Ivy’s eyes flicked to Orion, widening slightly.
Gisela’s focus shifted between them, puzzled by the exchange.
“Well, yes, that’s to be expected,” Orion said. “Temporary effects, I’m sure. Until the King unites the Stones. Just make sure we have enough supplies for winter.”
Bewildered, Gisela pressed. “I—but Father, aren’t you concerned that these changes happened so fast? The Stone hasn’t been gone very long.”
Orion slammed his hands down on the table, the sharp crack making everyone jump. He clenched his eyelids shut, drawing in a long inhale. “Gisela, this is not your concern.”
“With all due respect, Father, it concerns all of us,” she said, her finger tracing a circle in the air. “If the plants die, we can’t treat the villagers. We won’t have food. And we certainly can’t heal the starving.”
Ivy’s look was a silent warning, but Gisela ignored it.
Noah held his breath and watched.
“You need to send a raven to the King. Notify him of this.”
“By the Six,” Noah muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead.
“My advisor now, are you?” Orion said. “Leave the table, Gisela. Remember your place.”
Her father’s voice, hard and unyielding, didn’t belong to the man she knew.
This was a man stretched too thin, trying to hold the weight of an already struggling village, each word laced with stress he could not hide.
Still, it didn’t excuse the dismissal, the coldness.
The urge to argue rose, to make him see reason, but the words died in her throat.
She exhaled hard and turned away, looking anywhere but at him.
Her mother cast a knowing glance toward her father, frustration and concern pinching her expression.
She imagined her mother’s plea that morning, her hushed, urgent voice trying to pierce through Orion’s stubbornness.
Her soft touch, attempting to ease his strain.
The tension at the table was proof it hadn’t worked.
Gisela slammed the door behind her, the sound reverberating through the quiet street. Her thoughts whirled as she tried to grapple with her father’s sudden hardness. Orion had always been stern but fair. Perhaps becoming Village Lord weighed heavily, but this was deeper.
The Stones had never been removed from their pedestals before.
They were sacred gifts from the Six gods, ensuring the land thrived.
According to the teachings, the gods bestowed their power upon the lands so the people could prosper despite harsh conditions and the unpredictability of nature.
These Stones were living symbols of their protection and favor.
Gisela wondered if the King’s actions reflected a growing scorn for the divine power he once claimed to honor.
Gisela passed familiar faces whose worry mirrored her own as she walked through the village. Dread thickened with each step.
The village center came into view, a royal carriage flanked by guards waiting ahead.
Thorne leaned casually against a building off to the side. His gaze found hers.
She walked toward him but halted after two steps. Being seen together could draw unwanted attention.
A woman’s voice rang out, “Our son, Vaughn, received the mark of a Mystic yesterday evening. We are honored to allow him to do his duty to the kingdom and assist the King in his endeavor to strengthen our realm.”
Gisela’s heart sank. “What the hell are they thinking?” she muttered under her breath.
The guards handed Vaughn’s mother a large bag of coins. She and her husband rejoiced, their faces glowing with relief.
Gisela’s blood ran cold as sweat beaded along her hairline. She pushed through the crowd, throwing caution to the wind. Before she could get close, a hand caught her arm and pulled her into a narrow alley.
Thorne’s face was inches from hers, but the world around her was shrinking.
The rough brick was cold against her back, but in her mind, it was timber.
The smell of the damp stone became the scent of trapped air and sawdust. Her chest constricted, the walls closing in until the alley was no wider than a wooden crate.
The noise of the crowd dulled, voices fading into a distant hum, a backdrop to the ringing in her ears.
Thorne guided her into a wider path.
Gisela braced herself with her hands on her knees, gulping air.
With a hesitant look, he reached out to touch her shoulder, but she shoved his hand away.
“I’m fine. I don’t like tight spaces.”
Thorne’s brows flicked up. “I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t you? Back when we were kids—you all used to throw me in wooden crates and sit on top.”
“That was not me,” he said, sharper now.
“Of course it was, I saw you.”
“You saw me open the box and let you out.”
Gisela recalled the memory, but the details were hazy. She pushed it back down, where it belonged.
“Why did you stop me? They’re going to hurt Vaughn. They just lost Maya. What are they thinking—”
“The guards are following orders. If you reached him, they’d have arrested you. Or worse,” he said sternly. “I saved your ass.”
Tears burned her eyes, and she looked away. She pinched the bridge of her nose and slid down the wall, still trying to catch her breath.
Thorne lowered himself a few feet away, mirroring her posture.
“Why isn’t anyone asking questions?” she said.
“Half of these people are morons. The other half are afraid.”
They sat in a comfortable silence. Her pulse slowed, and she drew her knees closer, curling inwards.
“My father completely dismissed me this morning. I told him about the forest, about the plants.”
“There’s more than that now,” he muttered.
His midnight eyes carried a grayish, smoky hue.
Mysterious yet oddly comforting. “There was a letter on my father’s desk.
Black wax. The King’s seal.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“He was offered a position in the King’s guard.
I should’ve seen it coming . . . but there was something else.
Something about the Trials of Kharos and putting castle guards there. ”
Gisela frowned. Cillian cozying up to the King made sense. But the Trials of Kharos was a mystery. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“And it’s not just the plants,” Thorne said. “The animals in the forest . . . they’re different. Aggressive. Their eyes, Gisela, they’re . . . blank. A deer charged me this morning.”
Her pulse jumped. Not only because of the revelation about the animals, but when he used her real name. He never had before.
Thorne hesitated before continuing. “Maybe it really is connected to that message from the Elder. We need to do something. Before it gets worse.”
She snapped her head up. “Do what, Thorne? Go to the castle and beg King Ravenor to return the Stones? I have a family here. My parents, my brother, and my sister. I have people who rely on me for healing. I can’t abandon them. And I certainly can’t tell them all what I am.”
Thorne clenched his jaw.
“And we? When did this become a ‘we’?”
“It became a ‘we’ when we became Mystics,” he said, his tone low. “You think you’re the only one with something to lose? I have a lot at stake here too. But sitting around waiting for the King’s next move won’t save anyone.”
Her expression hardened, but beneath it, fear and doubt pulsed. She crossed her arms, struggling to hold onto her resolve. “All I have are the words of a vague prophecy and a secret that could kill me. You are the last person I could ever trust enough to—”
“To what?” Thorne cut in. “To understand? To help? You may not trust me, Gisela, but I know what it’s like to feel helpless, like the world is closing in on you.”
Gisela pressed her lips together to keep from screaming.
She wanted to lash out at Thorne for pushing her when she was already so confused, so vulnerable.
But his words resonated within her, although she was reluctant to admit it.
“Trust is earned, Thorne, and as of right now, you haven’t done much to earn mine. ” She stood and walked away.
“Gisela.”
Her steps faltered when he said her name again, but she kept going.
Confusion flooded her mind like poison, corroding every other thought.
The forest, the animals, and the Stones were all pieces of a puzzle she didn’t understand.
Taking care of people was in her blood, in her bones.
Her hands itched to move, to do something, but how could she act when she didn’t know where to start?
She clenched her fists so tight her nails left little crescents in her palms.
Every instinct told her to run, to hide, to pretend nothing was wrong, to cling to the mundane as she always had.
Villagers waited to be treated, her family needed her, and lives depended on her keeping it together.
So, she would. For now. She’d keep pretending the world wasn’t slowly unraveling like a loose thread around her.