Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
High above the darkened coast, the night narrowed to the roar in Thorne’s ears and the fire burning beneath his skin. His voice was strained as he clung to Terranox’s saddle. “Why didn’t you tell me they were leaving?”
“It is not my place to intrude on the minds of others without their permission. Primals respect the boundaries of individual will. You would do well to honor the same for Gisela.”
“I’ve never tried to read her thoughts. I don’t even think I can.”
“Yet.”
Thorne stiffened, not knowing what that meant, but pushing it aside. “You could have warned me. You know how dangerous this is.”
“There is a delicate balance we must maintain,” Ignitus replied.
“To intrude upon their thoughts without consent would breach the trust we have with them. Primals are bound by our own code of respect. We guide and support, but we do not dictate or invade. Eira would not have broken that trust with Gisela.”
Thorne exhaled, settling into the saddle. The fire in his hands dimmed.
“I don’t know why she shut me out.”
Ignitus chuckled. “Don’t you? You wouldn’t have let her go. You’ve been adamant about her not going. Trust that she can handle this. She is more powerful than she knows.”
“I hope she didn’t make a mistake.”
“She hasn’t,” Ignitus said. “And she has you to rely on, even from afar. Trust in her strength, as she trusts in yours.”
Thorne and Terranox soared through the night and into the morning, keeping high above the clouds as the first pale light of dawn bled into the sky.
They had pressed on through the frigid winds with relentless speed.
Despite the dropping temperatures as they entered the northern region, Thorne’s body remained perfectly warm.
The Snowdrifts stretched beneath them in a stark, desolate expanse of white.
The Guardian Tree came into view and dread sank into Thorne like an icy blade. The sight was worse than he’d imagined.
Terranox descended slowly, his massive wings cutting through the air before he struck the earth beside the once majestic tree, the impact sending a tremor through the clearing.
Thorne slid off the dragon’s back. His boots sank into the slushy earth as his eyes locked onto the trunk. It stood half-dead, its leaves wilting and falling, the vibrant energy it once radiated now reduced to a faint, failing pulse.
“By the Six,” he muttered. He approached the tree and reached out to stroke his fingertips along the bark. It crumbled beneath his touch, becoming dust on his gloves. His thoughts stumbled, clashing with the reality before him—the tree was dying, and with it, the path back.
“Can she even travel back this way?”
Inside him, Ignitus stirred, a restless ripple answering his fear.
The bodies of the beasts lay scattered around the clearing, their fur matted with dark blood and slick with half-melted ice. Their lifeless forms were grim evidence of the battle from the night before.
Thorne knelt beside one of the fallen creatures when he saw it—drops of blood staining the snow and dead grass. His fingers brushed the ground, trembling.
“That’s not animal blood,” he gritted out. “That’s Gisela’s blood. I can feel it.”
A cold, numbing fear clawed at Thorne’s insides. His breathing quickened, becoming ragged gasps.
The crunch of footsteps broke through the silence, snapping Thorne out of his spiraling thoughts. His hand instinctively went to his sword. Unsheathing it with a metallic ring, he turned toward the sound. His muscles tensed, ready to face whatever threat might emerge from the brush.
He almost wished for an attack.
A flash of blonde hair caught his eye. He squinted, tilting his head as a familiar woman stepped out from behind a tree.
“Hi, Thorne,” Ivy said, her voice somber.
Thorne blinked, taken aback. “Ivy?”
She spotted Terranox curled at the base of the Guardian Tree and jerked back. Before she could speak, Thorne’s voice cut through the clearing. “Is she here?”
Ivy’s shoulders slumped as she cautiously drew nearer. Redness ringed her eyes, swollen from hours of crying.
“They took her,” Ivy said, her voice trembling. “She’s gone.”
Thorne’s face paled, his nostrils flaring. “What do you mean they took her?”
“The guards . . . your father.” She grimaced. “They took her away. I couldn’t do anything. She told me not to.” Ivy swallowed. “I came back . . . I thought maybe the tree could answer me—help me find you. And here you are.”
The words were like lead, anchoring him in a suffocating stillness. Thorne’s grip locked around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles straining white. “Why?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Did they hurt her?”
Ivy swallowed hard, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “They arrested her for aiding you. Cillian hit her on the back of the head with his sword. Knocked her out.”
White-hot rage surged through Thorne, fiercer than anything he had ever felt. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms, and then something inside him snapped.
Thorne tilted his head back.
The sound that tore from him wasn’t human.
Black flames burst from his body, surging outward in a violent wave. The ground ignited beneath him, slush turning to steam, grass to ash.
He roared again, and again, each cry ripping through the still morning air, releasing every ounce of his fear, rage, and desperation.
“Thorne, stop!” Ivy’s voice cut through the roaring flames. She thrust her hands forward, and a storm of frost exploded from her fingertips, snuffing out the fire.
Glacia materialized beside her, reinforcing the frosty winds. They swirled through the clearing, extinguishing the last of the flames.
The fire died, leaving behind only a shroud of mist and smoke.
Thorne’s eyes were wild and unfocused, until they snapped to Ivy. “You’re a Mystic?” he rasped.
“Control yourself,” Ivy said. “Don’t destroy the place Gisela loves the most any more than it already is.”
Thorne’s anger and fear gave way to desperate sorrow. “I need to go to her.” Hot tears burned behind his eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of Gisela alone, hurt, in his father’s hands.
Ivy stepped closer, cautiously but firmly. “You can’t rush in without a plan. You’re going to need your friends’ help, Thorne. You can’t do this alone.”
“Listen to the Frostweaver,” Ignitus said, his tone soft but steady.
The storm in Thorne’s mind settled, clearing the way for rational thought. Charging in blindly could make things worse—for Gisela, and everyone else. Yet the pull to destroy everything and everyone standing in his way still simmered beneath the surface.
“Come to the house,” Ivy urged. “Before the villagers wake up.”
They left the woods in silence. The trees loomed behind them, stripped down and broken. The smell of char and frost clung to the air and Thorne’s mind drifted to the clearing again. The dying Guardian Tree, the scattered animals, the bloodied snow—it all sent a rage through him.
They cleared the makeshift wall along the perimeter and the village unfolded before him.
Frosthaven lay still. Broken doors swung from their hinges.
Stone walls were cracked, windows shattered.
No villagers moved through the streets, no chatter, no market calls—just silence.
Everything looked dull, like the missing Ice Stone stripped the village bare, leaving loss in its wake. Thorne slowed, taking it all in.
He followed Ivy into their home. The mingling scent of herbs and a faint trace of Gisela tugged at him.
Ivy moved to the kitchen and pulled a pot from the shelf.
His eyes roamed the room, lingering on spots where Gisela left traces of herself.
There was a cup on the table, a blanket draped over a chair.
Somehow, he knew they were hers. He traced the rim of her cup and his hand clenched.
Reluctantly, he sank into her chair, his posture stiff and uncomfortable, letting the faint trace of her presence press against him.
They sat in the pressurized silence of the kitchen for a while before Thorne spoke. “Is Orion going to be okay with me being here?”
Ivy offered a soft smile as she stirred honey into her tea. “Yes. Gisela told us everything. You don’t have to worry . . . not at all.”
Thorne’s shoulders eased a fraction, though the ache in his heart remained. This isn’t how he imagined reconnecting with Gisela’s family. Maybe they’d have declared their love, hand in hand, with a hint of surprise from her family—perhaps more than a hint.
Ivy slid Thorne’s cup of tea closer to him. “I’ve been hiding it from my family for as long as I’ve known Orion,” she admitted, her gaze falling to the floor. “I only wanted to protect them.”
“It was beginning to torment her . . . not knowing where her lineage came from.”
Ivy’s face crumpled. “That was never my intention. I always knew she was special. When she was born, I had this . . . intuition—” She broke off, swallowing.
Thorne watched her, a thought catching and quickening his pulse. He chose his words carefully. “You’re awakened,” he began. “So, you might know . . . is my mother a Mystic?”
Ivy frowned, thinking. “I don’t think so. But maybe she never awakened.”
Thorne’s hope unraveled. “Have you seen her? Is she home?”
Ivy ran a hand through her hair. “She left right after your father did.”
“To go where?”
“No one knows.” Ivy lifted her cup and took a small sip.
Maybe Cillian’s service to the King had been his mother’s way out, a chance to escape the abuse she had endured for years. The thought of where she might have gone was impossible to guess.
“You need to go back to your friends and make a plan to get Gisela back,” Ivy said.
“I can help in any way you need, but I don’t want you barging into the castle alone.
Do you understand, Thorne? My daughter’s life is at risk.
I know you love her. I felt it back at the clearing.
But I won’t let you put her in even more danger by acting recklessly. ”
Ignitus appeared behind Thorne, locking eyes with Ivy. “Intuitive, you are.”
Thorne rolled his eyes at the truth behind Ignitus’s words. This was his moment to prove he had the self-control, the restraint to do this right. He couldn’t let his rage steer him. Not anymore.
Noah and Orion came from the hall, their faces shadowed with worry. They froze at the sight of Ivy, Thorne, and Ignitus at the table.
Orion approached slowly and sat down, while keeping his eyes on Ignitus. “I’ve already sent a raven asking for my daughter’s immediate release.”
Noah dropped into the chair beside him with a bitter snort. “A worthless effort.”
“It’s me they want,” Thorne said. “I won’t let her suffer because of that.”
“She already is,” Noah snapped, frustration barely contained.
Ivy shot him a glare. “This is not Thorne’s fault.”
“It’s okay,” Thorne said, nodding at Noah. “I understand. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back. Trust me on that.”
Orion leaned forward, eyes sharp. “You need to be smart about it.”
“I’ll go with you,” Noah offered, rising from his seat with determination.
Ivy and Thorne shook their heads. “No,” they said in unison.
“We’re dealing with much worse than the average King’s guards,” Ivy warned. “This is beyond what you’re prepared for.”
“I don’t want to waste any more time,” Thorne said, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape as he stood abruptly. “I need to fly back to Aquamere.”
Noah perked up. “Fly? The dragon is here? The one Gisela told us about?”
Ivy stood, her hands gripping Thorne’s shoulders as she looked him in the eye. “They knew you were in Aquamere. That’s how they knew Gisela was with you. It was Vaughn. He gave you up.”
Thorne rolled his neck, anger lacing through his restraint. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
He moved toward the door and Orion stepped forward, blocking his exit. “Bring my daughter back home first.”
Thorne met Orion’s gaze and didn’t flinch. “I will.”