Morning light filtered through the cracks in the cabin's wooden walls, throwing slats of gold across the floor. Wren woke to the scent of pine and smoke, and the quiet sound of someone moving around just outside.
Cassian was still asleep beside the cold fireplace, a protective hand curled instinctively toward where she had lain hours ago. Veylan was gone.
Wren pushed the door open and stepped into the dew-damp grass. A note fluttered from the lintel, pinned by a carved bone talisman that shimmered faintly with warding magic.
She pulled it down, her chest tightening as she unfolded the parchment:
Gone to find the Bride of Thorns. Don't follow. It's not a path meant for three. Keep him safe, flameheart.
— V
"Stupid, reckless shadow," she muttered, fingers curling around the paper.
Cassian stepped up behind her, eyes narrowed as he read over her shoulder. "He's going alone?"
"He thinks it's safer that way." Wren looked up at the woods, which stretched endlessly into mist. "But I can feel him. Even now. He's shielding it, but he's afraid."
Cassian's jaw tightened. "Then we prepare here. We make sure that if anything comes for you while he's gone, they won't find you unguarded."
Wren turned to him. "You don't have to protect me, Cassian. Not like before. I'm not the same girl."
"I know," he said softly. "That's why I want to stay. Because now, I see you."
Their eyes met—so much left unsaid. So much that no longer needed to be.
Then Wren turned back toward the trees. "The Bride of Thorns," she whispered. "What if he doesn't come back?"
Cassian's voice was iron. "Then we burn the forest down to bring him home."
Far from the cabin, deeper into the deadlands where sunlight did not dare linger, Veylan walked alone.
The trees grew twisted here, limbs gnarled like hands frozen in agony. Crows followed him in silence, their eyes gleaming with more intelligence than he liked.
He passed ruins overrun with moss, bones woven into the roots of trees, and a stream that whispered his name in a voice that didn't belong to any living creature.
The Bone Circle's mark flared faintly on his skin—not from allegiance, but recognition. He was one of their broken children, once. And they always remembered their own.
At last, the forest opened to a clearing of thorns.
An ancient well stood at its center, overgrown and black with rot. A figure waited beside it—pale as bone, draped in a veil of dried vines and silver needles.
The Thorned Bride.
Veylan bowed slightly, respectful. "I've come for her help."
The woman did not move. Her voice came from nowhere—and everywhere at once. "You bring death in your shadow, child. And fire in your heart. Why would I help you?"
"Because she's coming into her power," he said. "And the world will burn unless she learns to control it."
The veil shifted, revealing a mouth stitched closed with thorns. Yet still, the voice came.
"And you love her."
Veylan hesitated. "Yes."
"Would you die for her?"
His voice didn't falter. "Yes."
"Would you kill for her?"
"…Yes."
The vines writhed around the well, creeping like serpents. The ground pulsed with blood-red light.
"Then the trial begins."
Wren jolted upright from where she sat meditating, her palm sparking with fire. She felt him scream—not aloud, but inside the bond.
"Cassian!" she shouted, rising.
He was already there, sword drawn. "What happened?"
"I don't know. But he's hurting."
Cassian stepped in front of her. "Then we find him."
"No," she said, gripping his arm. "He told me not to follow. This is a trial. He has to survive it alone."
Cassian looked like he wanted to argue, but stopped. "And if he doesn't?"
Wren swallowed. "Then I'll never forgive myself."
Veylan sank to his knees as the vines dragged him into the earth.
They didn't cut him—they remembered him. Whispered his sins back into his bones. The trial wasn't just pain. It was memory.
He saw the first time he killed. The way his hands shook. The second time. The third. Until they stopped shaking.
He saw the boy he used to be—wide-eyed, hopeful, foolish. He saw his mother's face before she was taken by the Bone Circle, and he saw how he hadn't saved her.
"I'm not him anymore," he gritted out.
The vines wrapped around his throat.
"Prove it."
The forest melted away, replaced by stone walls and a flickering fire.
Wren stood before him.
But she wasn't real.
He knew it the moment she looked at him with fear.
"You left me," she whispered, eyes wet with betrayal.
"No," Veylan said, stepping forward, but his limbs were heavy. "This isn't real."
"You let me fall into darkness. I called for you, but you didn't come."
He shook his head. "This is the trial. You're not real."
"But I felt real," she said, and gods, her voice cracked just like hers. "Didn't you love me?"
"I do."
"Then why did you walk into death without saying goodbye?"
The vines surged again, wrapping his wrists. His shadow rose up behind him, monstrous and distorted.
"Because if I didn't," he choked out, "you would've."
The illusion shattered like glass.
The vines fell away.
The Bride stood over him, her veiled head tilted. "Your truth is bitter. But truth nonetheless."
He lay on the ground, gasping.
"You may ask for what you came for."
Veylan stood slowly. "Teach me how to shield her power. How to keep it from consuming her."
The Bride was silent a long time. Then: "Magic like hers was never meant to be caged. Only redirected."
"Then show me how."
A thorned hand reached toward his chest—and pushed.
Pain lanced through him. It was not wounding, but carving.
It tore something loose. Something deep.
When it ended, Veylan collapsed—changed.
The vines uncurled. The well glowed red.
He'd passed.
But something inside him was now bound to her. To Wren.
Forever.
Back in the cabin, Wren gasped.
She clutched her chest, panting, as if something had just fused with her ribcage.
"What is it?" Cassian was at her side in seconds.
"I don't know," she whispered, eyes wide. "Something… shifted. In him. And now it's inside me too."
Cassian looked haunted. "What did he give up?"
She shook her head slowly. "I think… I think a part of his soul just bonded to mine."
Cassian turned away, his fists clenched.
"Are you angry?"
"I'm scared," he said. "Because I'm losing you in ways I don't understand."
Wren crossed the room to him. "You're not losing me. This isn't a choice between you and Veylan."
"Isn't it?" he asked, voice raw. "Because it feels like every step he takes toward you is another step away from me."
She placed her hands on his chest. "Cassian. You were my first ache. My first fire. You still are. But this isn't about choosing who owns my heart—it's about me surviving long enough to know what I want."
He leaned his forehead against hers. "Then just tell me I'm not too late."
"You're not," she said softly. "But don't make me choose before I'm ready. Please."
He nodded, pulling her into a careful embrace.
And somewhere deep in the woods, the shadows began to stir.
Veylan was on his way back.
But he wasn't the same.
And neither was she.
Cassian found her before dawn.
Wren sat at the edge of a half-frozen stream, her legs drawn up beneath her cloak, staring into the current like it could wash away the weight of her choices. The forest was hushed in that strange, waiting way it got before something terrible or beautiful happened.
He didn't speak. Just sat beside her.
They watched the sky lighten in shades of violet and iron.
"Did you sleep?" he asked eventually.
"No," she said. "Did you?"
"Barely. Veylan hasn't come back."
Wren nodded slowly. She could feel Veylan's absence like an ache in her ribs. "He'll come back."
Cassian looked at her, expression unreadable. "Do you wish it was him sitting here instead?"
She didn't flinch from the question. "I wish it didn't have to be a choice."
He breathed out a soft, bitter laugh. "It always is."
She turned to face him. "Cassian, I never stopped loving you. But I also never stopped hurting."
"I know," he said. "And I'd do anything to take that hurt away."
His voice broke a little at the end.
"I don't need you to erase the past," she whispered. "I just want to know you're still in my future."
He reached for her hand. "I am."
They sat there, entwined fingers and frostbite breath, until a sudden ripple of magic surged through Wren's chest.
She gasped and shot upright.
"What is it?" Cassian asked, already standing, protective instinct flaring.
"Something's wrong," she whispered. "Veylan."
Without another word, they ran.
They found him in the ruins of an abandoned wardstone circle—a crumbled relic from the age when witches reigned unchecked. The protective glyphs were shattered, the air thick with smoke and shattered bones.
And Veylan was on his knees, blood dripping from his mouth, one hand clutching a scorched piece of cloth.
"Veylan!" Wren dropped beside him. "What happened?"
He looked up slowly. His pupils were blown wide, his shadows clinging to him like frightened children.
"I found her," he said hoarsely. "The Thorned Bride. Or… what's left of her."
Cassian crouched beside them, wary. "What do you mean?"
"She's not whole," Veylan murmured. "She's broken… bound. Something's been siphoning her power for centuries."
Wren paled. "Who?"
Veylan looked at her—really looked, with grief and fury and resolve in his voice.
"The Bone Circle," he said. "They're not just waiting. They're feeding."
Cassian's eyes darkened. "On her?"
"On anyone with the old blood," Veylan confirmed. "They're building something. A vessel. And it's meant for you, Wren."
Silence dropped like a blade.
Her heart hammered. "Me?"
Veylan nodded, his voice shaking. "They need your fire. Your lineage. You're the last."
Cassian stood, fists clenched. "Then we destroy them before they take her."
Wren was still staring at Veylan. "Why didn't you run?"
"I couldn't," he said softly. "She reached for me. Not with hands, but with memory. She was trying to show me—what they did. What they plan."
"And what do they plan?" Cassian asked.
Veylan's jaw tightened. "To awaken the Worldfire."
Wren felt the magic in her veins shudder.
The Worldfire. The ancient flame that once tore kingdoms apart and remade them from ash. It was myth. Legend. A threat whispered to children with magic in their bones.
And now it lived in her.
Her voice was a tremble. "If they awaken it inside me… I won't survive it."
Cassian stepped forward. "You won't face it alone."
Veylan wiped blood from his chin. "We stop them. We break the Circle."
"But we don't even know where they're hiding," Wren whispered.
"I do," Veylan said.
Both she and Cassian stared at him.
"She showed me," he said grimly. "The Thorned Bride. She marked me with a path."
He opened his palm.
There, seared into his skin like a brand, was a jagged sigil—one Wren had seen only once before.
On the night of her first vision. When the sky bled silver and her magic had nearly torn her apart.
"Then we leave at dawn," Cassian said.
"No," Wren said, standing.
The men turned to her.
"We leave now," she said, flame dancing at her fingertips. "Before anyone else dies for me."
And in that moment—flanked by fire and shadow, heart still torn but purpose clear—Wren didn't feel like a girl at all.
She felt like a reckoning.