The deeper they traveled into the northern ridgelands, the more the land itself seemed to reject them.
It had rained the night before—just enough to soak the soil into muck but not enough to douse the lingering scent of ash and blood that clung to Kael's cloak like a memory. The trees had grown twisted here. Blackened branches curled like claws, and moss grew in veins, not patches. Birds no longer called. Even the wind was hushed.
Kael rode at the center of the formation, silent. He hadn't spoken since they left the ritual pit. The pendant Rin had recovered swung from his belt, chiming softly like an echo of a bell only he could hear.
Lyra rode beside him, watching.
"You're too quiet," she said at last.
Kael didn't answer.
She pressed. "You're always brooding, but this? This is different."
"It's because this isn't just a rebellion," Kael said without looking at her. "It's a ritual. A message. One that started long before we arrived."
Lyra frowned. "Message for who?"
Kael turned toward her slowly.
"…Me."
---
Hours Later – The Forgotten Shrine
The scouts returned just past midday with word of a structure hidden in the cliffs—something old, something deliberately hidden behind illusion magic.
Kael personally led the advance party, taking only Lyra, Rin, Serentha, and six of the Lion's Teeth. They moved with weapons drawn, navigating the narrow path that wound between cracked stones and overgrown roots.
At the summit, they found it.
A ruin.
Ancient stone half-buried in the cliff face, its entrance sealed by a once-grand iron door, now rusted and cracked down the middle. Moss and ivy climbed its columns, but the carvings had not faded: thorned vines curling around a circle of stars.
Serentha inhaled sharply.
"…That symbol. It predates even the first Duke. This is Thornline-era."
Rin pressed her palm to the center of the doorway. "There's magic here. Old stuff. Not quite divine... but not demonic either. Like... nature twisted backward."
The door cracked open with a low groan.
Darkness spilled out like breath.
---
Inside the Shrine
It wasn't large.
But every inch of the shrine's interior screamed forbidden.
Charred candles lay in a perfect spiral. The stone walls were lined with thorn marks—not carved, but grown—stone twisted into shapes resembling rose spines.
At the center stood a dais, and atop it, a statue.
It was faceless. Head bowed. But unmistakably humanoid, draped in robes of stone, holding a sword made of curled thorn branches. And at its feet… a basin.
Still filled with fresh blood.
No dust. No decay.
Kael approached slowly, each step echoing like a heartbeat.
Lyra and Serentha drew weapons. Rin stepped behind Kael instinctively.
Kael stopped before the statue, staring into its non-existent face.
The pendant on his belt began to glow again.
And then—a voice.
> "Welcome… child of the thorn."
They all froze.
Kael's hand went to his blade.
"Who said that?"
The voice did not reply.
But the shadows behind the statue thickened.
A figure stepped forward.
Wearing no mask.
---
The Herald of Velcras
He was tall, impossibly gaunt, with pale skin that shimmered faintly like pearl. His eyes were wrong—not just in color, but in depth. Looking into them felt like falling upward into a pit with no end.
He wore gray robes edged in black script, and at his throat: a half-circle pendant, cracked through the middle.
"I am called many things," the man said, voice smooth as silk soaked in oil. "But to you, I am simply the Harbinger. The one sent to guide… or to warn."
"Velcras," Kael said flatly.
The Harbinger inclined his head. "Yes. We follow the Circle. The truths severed from time. And we have been… watching you."
Kael gripped his sword hilt. "You sent the Knotted Flame to kill me."
"No." The Harbinger smiled faintly. "He disobeyed. He wished to test you. We wished to see if you were ready."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Ready for what?"
The man didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped to the basin.
"I know you feel it. The hunger in your blood. The pull of that dagger at your side. The whispers that call when you sleep."
Kael stiffened.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, but you do." He dipped a finger into the blood and let it drip into the grooves on the floor. The spiral began to light with dull crimson.
"You've already begun the Bloom."
---
Revelations and Threats
Rin stepped forward. "What bloom? What the hell is he talking about?"
The Harbinger looked at her—not cruelly, but sadly.
"The Thornline bloodline is not noble," he said. "It is cursed. Gifted. Twisted. Long ago, one of your ancestors sealed something. But sealing something does not kill it."
He looked back to Kael.
"You carry its echo."
Kael felt the dagger burn against his spine.
Lyra took a step forward. "If you're trying to confuse us with riddles, it's not working."
"No riddle," the Harbinger replied. "Only warning. You are not the first Kael Vaelthorn."
Silence.
Kael froze.
The Harbinger's smile widened slightly.
"Yes. Even your name was not born of coincidence. We have records. Visions. The Thorn Vault has opened before—centuries ago. The first Kael Vaelthorn failed. He tried to control the bloom. He became the Rooted King."
Serentha gasped.
"That's... that's just a legend. A fae tale told in the north."
"No," the Harbinger said. "It is memory. Buried, rewritten, erased by your bloodline. But Velcras remembers."
He stepped closer to Kael.
"You are the final echo of that failure. But unlike him, you may yet bloom clean. Or you may fall like all the others."
Kael stepped forward.
His voice was cold steel.
"I'm not your puppet. Not your echo. Not your bloom."
The Harbinger chuckled.
"Then stop the ritual. If you can."
He vanished in a blink of ash.
---
Aftermath – Choices in the Dark
The spiral on the floor faded.
The air felt lighter. Colder.
Kael stood still, breathing heavily.
Rin looked at him. "He was lying, right?"
Kael didn't answer.
Lyra touched his shoulder. "Kael…"
"I don't know," he said quietly.
He looked down at the dagger.
Then at the basin.
"Let's burn this place. We're done here."
Serentha gave the order.
---
That Night – Alone by the Fire
Kael couldn't sleep.
The whispering had returned.
Soft, curling under his thoughts like ivy:
> "You are the last root."
> "The last chance."
> "Will you sever yourself… or bloom?"
He gripped the dagger, hard.
And made a decision.
---
Final Scene – The Letter
Back at the main camp, Kael summoned a scribe.
"I need a sealed message sent to House Vaelthorn," he said.
"Yes, my lord. Contents?"
Kael stared at the candle for a long moment.
Then dictated:
"To my father, Duke Aldric Vaelthorn.
I've encountered something beneath the soil of this rebellion. It is older than Velcras, older than our House. I request immediate access to the Thorn Archives—all levels. Uncensored. I believe this is not merely war.
It is legacy.
And it is coming for us."
He sealed the letter.
And somewhere in the dark, the Vault chains stirred once more.
---
End of Chapter 63