Chapter 3: The Thorn Gate

The moment Seren stepped through the Veil, the air changed.

She had expected cold. Darkness. Maybe pain. Instead, the forest was alive—throbbing with sound and color. Trees that shimmered like silver and gold stretched above her, their trunks spiraling with runes that pulsed softly. The grass glowed faintly underfoot, casting her shadow in hues of green and blue. The sky was a deep violet, streaked with two crescent moons.

She staggered forward, clutching the pendant.

There was no wind, but the world breathed.

Each step into the fae realm felt like stepping into a heartbeat.

“Where am I?” she whispered.

The forest answered not in words, but in song. The low hum of leaves, the rustle of unseen creatures. The kind of sound that made her skin rise with gooseflesh. Ancient. Knowing.

She kept walking, deeper into the trees.

The first thing she noticed was the silence.

It wasn’t a peaceful silence.

It was watching.

Like the hush before an ambush. A wrong kind of stillness.

Something was following her.

She turned quickly, heart in her throat.

Nothing.

But the feeling didn’t fade.

Instead, it grew. A heavy sense pressing against her chest, as if the forest were holding its breath.

Then, without warning, a shadow dropped from the trees.

Seren fell backward with a cry.

The figure landed in a crouch—tall, lean, and cloaked in deep gray.

Not Thalion.

He stood, silver hair braided with feathers and bone. His skin glinted faintly in the moonlight—tattoos coiling around his throat and down his bare arms. His eyes were strange—one black, one pale blue.

A fae.

And not a friendly one.

“Human,” he said, voice low and rough. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Seren scrambled to her feet. “I didn’t come here to die, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He tilted his head. “Then why did you come?”

“To find the Court of Thorns.”

The fae paused.

His eyes flicked to the pendant on her chest.

“That doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Thalion said it did.”

That made the fae blink. Then narrow his eyes.

“You know Thalion?”

She nodded. “He told me to come here. To find a tower near the Moonfang cliffs.”

The fae chuckled darkly. “And you listened?”

Seren clenched her fists. “Are you going to kill me, or help me?”

That earned her a smile. It wasn’t a kind one.

“I should do neither,” he said. “But Thalion owes me.”

Before she could react, he stepped forward—and pressed a hand to her forehead.

Images exploded in her mind.

A tower crumbling into ash.

Wings of black smoke.

A crown of thorns dipped in blood.

She stumbled back with a gasp.

The fae studied her. “Interesting.”

“What was that?”

“A test,” he said. “You passed.”

Before she could question him further, he turned and walked away.

“Follow, if you want to live,” he called over his shoulder.

With little choice, Seren obeyed.

They traveled through the fae forest in silence.

The path twisted strangely, folding in on itself. At one point they walked through what looked like a tunnel of roots—only to emerge under a starless sky with no sense of how far they’d gone.

Time didn’t move normally here.

After what felt like hours, they came to a clearing.

A broken tower rose from its center—half-swallowed by ivy and moss. It looked like something out of a dream. Or a nightmare.

“This is it?” Seren asked.

The fae nodded.

She stepped forward.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her wrist.

His fingers were ice. His gaze sharp.

“Your name.”

“Seren Vale.”

He released her. “Mine is Kaelen. If Thalion lives, he’ll be in there.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Kaelen gave her a smile full of teeth. “Then you’ll join the dead.”

Inside, the tower was colder.

She expected dust, ruin. But everything was clean—like the stone remembered the people who once walked here.

The staircase spiraled downward.

Kaelen didn’t follow.

“You walk alone from here,” he said. “The Court of Thorns tests its own.”

Seren hesitated.

She touched the pendant at her chest, then descended.

The stairs led to a hall lit by flame.

Torches flickered on their own as she passed, casting shadows that moved too deliberately. Portraits lined the stone walls—some with slashed faces, others faded entirely. As if history were trying to erase itself.

She stopped before a mirror at the end of the corridor.

It didn’t reflect her.

Instead, it showed a field of blood-red roses. A throne made of vines.

And a woman—tall, cloaked, with eyes like the night sky.

Seren reached out.

The mirror rippled.

Then shattered.

And from the glass, Thalion stepped through.

He looked different.

Worn.

His eyes were tired, his mouth set in a grim line. His armor—black with silver accents—bore a crest she hadn’t seen before: a rose pierced by a blade.

He looked at her as if she were a ghost.

“You came,” he whispered.

“You told me to.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

She crossed her arms. “Are you going to yell at me, or explain what the hell is happening?”

That made him smile. Just a little.

“I suppose I deserve that.”

He stepped closer, and for a moment, the weight of this place fell away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve told you more. But I couldn’t be sure—until now.”

“Sure of what?”

He touched the pendant. “That you’re her heir.”

Seren shook her head. “I’m not royalty. I’m not powerful. I don’t even know how I slowed time—”

“You don’t need to know yet. You need to survive.”

She blinked. “That’s comforting.”

Thalion turned. “Come. There are others who need to see you.”

They walked into a chamber beneath the tower.

A circle of fae stood waiting.

Each one was different. One had horns like a ram. Another had wings of mist. A third wore a gown made of petals that moved on their own.

This was not a royal court.

This was a broken court.

A court in exile.

Thalion stood at Seren’s side.

“Behold,” he said. “The last daughter of the Thorn Queen.”

Murmurs rose.

Disbelief. Awe. Fear.

Seren braced herself.

But none moved toward her.

Except one.

A woman in deep red robes, her silver hair braided with bloodstones.

She looked older than the others—her gaze sharp, but sorrowful.

She stepped forward, cupped Seren’s face.

“Do you remember me, child?”

Seren shook her head.

The woman smiled sadly. “You wouldn’t. You were taken too young.”

“T-Taken?”

Thalion stepped forward. “Your mother hid you, just before the Veil rose. She knew the courts would fall. She gave you to humans—to protect what remained of her bloodline.”

Seren’s voice trembled. “She’s dead?”

The woman in red nodded. “The Thorn Queen fell. Betrayed by the High Court. And now, her court lives in shadows. Until you return us to the light.”

“I can’t lead anyone,” Seren said, backing away. “I’m not a queen.”

“You are,” the woman said. “In blood. In right. And soon… in power.”

The court knelt before her.

Seren stared at them in horror.

And somewhere deep inside, something woke.

Later that night, Thalion found her alone in the tower garden.

The thorns had grown wild here—roses the color of wine, thorns long as knives.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she said.

“No one ever does.”

“Why did my mother give me up?”