The grove no longer attacked them.
That did not mean it welcomed them.
The air pressed heavy against Elara's skin, thick with decay and leftover magic. The blue light she had released still lingered faintly in the air, like a memory refusing to fade. But the damage remained.
Trees stood bent and twisted, their leaves dull and brittle. Roots crawled along the ground like scars that never healed. And from deep within the grove, a low growl echoed again and again—slow, patient, waiting.
Elara felt it in her bones.
We're close.
Oberon broke the silence with a crooked smile. "Well," he said lightly, brushing dirt from his sleeve, "that was thrilling. Near death, betrayal, corrupted ancestors. A family reunion, really."
No one laughed.
"They were trying to stop us," Elara said, her voice steady despite the fear tightening her chest. "They still think we're the problem."
Elandria walked a few steps ahead, shoulders heavy. "They believe containment is safer than destruction," she said quietly. "Even if it means sacrificing Havenwood's future."
Kaelen's arm stayed firm around Elara's back. Protective. Possessive. "Fear like that doesn't come from nowhere," he said. His eyes scanned the twisted path ahead. "There's more you're not telling us."
Elandria slowed.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
"The truth was buried on purpose," she finally admitted. "Hidden beneath ritual and silence. Even from me."
Elara's heart skipped. "Elandria…"
"There were whispers," Elandria continued. "After the Echo Stone fractured. After the betrayal. A pact was made."
The word echoed.
"A pact?" Elara whispered.
Elandria stopped and turned.
Her emerald eyes locked onto Kaelen.
Not Elara.
Kaelen stiffened instantly.
"It was a Guardian," Elandria said. "A Vane."
The grove seemed to hold its breath.
"He failed to stop the fracture," she went on, voice heavy with grief. "Failed to protect the Echo Stone. Guilt consumed him. Fear followed."
Kaelen's jaw tightened.
"So he chose sacrifice," Elandria said. "He bound a part of his own soul into the containment ritual. Not his life. His essence."
Elara felt dizzy. "That's… impossible."
"No," Oberon murmured slowly. "It's forbidden."
Elandria nodded. "And it worked. For a time."
Kaelen's voice came out low. Dangerous. "You're saying a Vane is part of the prison."
"Yes," Elandria said. "And in doing so, he tied the Vane bloodline to the Echo Stone forever."
Silence slammed down on them.
Kaelen's breath went shallow.
"That explains it," he said slowly. "The resonance. The pull. The reason the lore warned against mixing bloodlines."
Elara turned to him, fear blooming fast. "What do you mean?"
Kaelen met her gaze. "The old texts spoke of a forbidden bond between Vane and Thorne. They said love between the lines would weaken the Vane."
"They lied," Elandria said softly. "Or rather—told half the truth."
She looked at Elara now.
"That bond is not weakness," Elandria continued. "It is power. But power that can be twisted."
Elara's hands went cold.
"The King can exploit it," Elandria said. "If the bond breaks. If fear, doubt, or sacrifice tears it apart—"
"Havenwood falls," Kaelen finished.
Elara sucked in a sharp breath.
Their love.
The thing that had saved Havenwood once.
Could also destroy it.
"So," Elara whispered, voice shaking, "we're a weapon."
"And a target," Oberon added grimly.
Lyra crossed her arms. "Fantastic. Ancient curse, doomed romance, end of the world if you break up. No pressure."
Elara shot her a glare. "This 'romance' sealed the breach in my time."
Lyra smirked. "Yeah. And now it might blow up two worlds. Balance, darling."
Kaelen tightened his grip on Elara's hand. "It doesn't change anything."
She looked at him. "Kaelen—"
"I choose you," he said firmly. "Every time. The King doesn't get to turn that into a threat."
The words steadied her.
He won't leave.
Oberon sighed dramatically. "Tragic, powerful love. Truly, the Fae poets will feast."
"This isn't a poem," Kaelen snapped. "Tell us how to reach the Echo Stone."
Elandria turned toward the heart of the grove.
The air shimmered there—distorted, pulsing, alive.
"It lies ahead," she said. "Protected by old wards. And by those who still believe fear is mercy."
She paused.
"And the King's whispers will be strongest there," she added quietly. "Not for Elara."
Her gaze returned to Kaelen.
"For you."
The growl from the depths deepened—closer now.
Elara felt the locket pulse once, sharp and warning.
Whatever waited at the heart of the grove knew them.
Knew their bond.
And was ready to tear it apart.
The path ahead did not open.
It waited.
Cold crept into the air as they moved closer to the heart of the grove. Elara felt it slide under her skin, heavy and sharp, like grief that had never been allowed to rest. The twisted trees stood still now, watching. Listening.
Then came the whispers.
Not the King's voice.
These were softer. Broken. Full of regret.
Elara shivered.
"They're different," she whispered. "Sad."
Shadows peeled away from the trees.
Slowly, carefully, figures formed—tall, slender, glowing faintly with silver-blue light. Ancient Fae. Their eyes were hollow, their faces etched with sorrow and fear frozen in time.
They floated just above the ground, blocking the path.
Elandria stopped short, breath catching. "The first faction," she murmured. "The original traitors."
Lyra tensed. "Ghosts. Great."
"They are bound here," Elandria continued softly. "Anchored by guilt. Fed by the King's whispers. They guard the Echo Stone."
Oberon frowned, magic stirring in his hands. "So we fight?"
Elandria shook her head. "You cannot harm them. Not with force."
Elara's fingers tightened around Kaelen's. "Then how do we get past them?"
"You don't break them," Elandria said. "You convince them."
Elara blinked. "Convince… ghosts?"
The spirits drifted closer. Their whispers grew louder.
We were afraid.We tried to protect it.We failed.
Kaelen felt it then.
Not magic.
Understanding.
They sound like me, he thought. Like the man I could have become.
He loosened his grip on Elara's hand.
She looked at him sharply. "Kaelen?"
"I know them," he said quietly. "Not by name. By choice."
Before she could stop him, he stepped forward.
"Elara—" she reached for him.
He turned back just long enough to give her a look. Steady. Certain.
Trust me.
Kaelen faced the spirits.
"I am Kaelen Vane," he said.
His voice carried through the grove—not loud, but unbreakable.
The spirits stirred.
"I know why you did what you did," Kaelen continued. "You were afraid of chaos. Afraid of power without control."
The whispers rose.
"Yes… yes…*
"You saw the Echo Stone fracture," he said. "You saw darkness leak in. And you chose containment over healing."
The spirits flickered.
"You were wrong," Kaelen said. "But not evil."
Elara's breath caught.
Kaelen lifted his hand, palm open.
"You feared love," he went on. "You feared the bond between Vane and Thorne. You feared that love would weaken the prison."
His voice hardened.
"But fear is what weakened it."
The grove trembled.
Elara felt the locket pulse—slow, steady.
"The King feeds on what you left behind," Kaelen said. "Guilt. Doubt. Regret."
He swallowed.
"I was raised to be duty," he said. "To sacrifice feeling for control. To believe love makes you weak."
Elara's chest tightened.
"But love is the only thing he cannot corrupt," Kaelen finished. "It is the only thing that heals instead of cages."
He looked back at Elara then.
Just once.
His eyes softened.
"She is not my weakness," he said. "She is my choice."
The spirits wavered violently.
Their whispers clashed—fear against longing.
What if it fails?What if it breaks us again?
Kaelen stepped closer, unafraid. "Then let it break me," he said. "Not Havenwood."
Silence crashed down.
Elara felt tears burn her eyes.
He would give everything, she realized. Even himself.
One spirit drifted forward.
Its face was young. Regret carved deep into its eyes.
"You speak like him," the spirit whispered.
Kaelen stiffened. "Like who?"
"The one who bound his soul," the spirit said. "The Vane who chose fear… and love… and paid the price."
Kaelen's breath shook. "Then let me finish what he started."
The spirit studied him for a long moment.
Then it turned to Elara.
"You carry light," it said softly. "But light alone burns."
Elara stepped forward, voice trembling but clear. "Then let us burn together," she said. "Or heal. But don't make us cages."
The spirits recoiled.
A low hum filled the grove.
Slowly—one by one—they moved aside.
The path opened.
Elara gasped.
Elandria exhaled shakily. "They accepted you."
Lyra blinked. "Well. That was… emotional."
The spirits faded into the trees, their whispers finally quiet.
Ahead, the air shimmered.
The Echo Stone pulsed—bright, aching, whole.
But the growl returned.
Closer now.
Deeper.
The King was no longer watching.
He was waiting.
Kaelen stepped back to Elara's side, taking her hand again.
She squeezed it hard.
"That was your soul you put on the line," she whispered.
He leaned close. "I'd do it again."
The locket burned warm against her chest.
The bond held.
But Elara knew—deep in her bones—
The next test would not ask for words.
It would ask for blood.