Cael turned from the forked path.
The forest resisted.
Roots thickened behind him, vines curling like veins across the ground. Every step back sent a shiver through the trees—as if the Thorn Path itself disapproved.
But he pressed on.
He wasn't done with her.
The glow from the standing stones faded behind him. The root-hollow yawned in the distance, breathing spores into the dark.
But Cael followed memory instead.
The place where the girl had appeared—the clearing with the bleeding briar.
He found it. Changed.
The ground was soft with moss now. The vines had curled into a throne of thorns, empty and waiting.
She wasn't there.
Cael stepped forward.
"Where are you?"
No answer.
He touched the briar-throne.
Thorns pricked his fingers—but this time, they drank no blood. Instead, the ground shifted beneath him.
Roots rose in spirals.
The forest blinked.
Suddenly, she was behind him.
"You turned back," she said softly.
He spun.
The vine-girl stood at the edge of the clearing, the crown of crows still woven into her hair. But now her eyes glowed faint green—like sap caught in moonlight.
"I have questions," Cael said.
She tilted her head.
"So do I."
A silence passed between them.
The Scabbard stirred.
"You shouldn't have come back," she whispered. "The forest doesn't like uncertainty."
"Neither do I."
She walked forward, trailing petals that dissolved into mist.
"You carry a relic that should not be awake. The Scabbard of Kings. It belongs to Albion's first oath—and its final curse."
"It was given to me," Cael said. "I didn't ask for it."
"No one ever does," she said. "And yet it always finds someone."
She stopped inches away.
Reaching out, she pressed her palm against his chest.
The Scabbard sang.
Low. Mournful.
"You're bleeding on two sides," she said. "One for the thorn. One for the blade."
Cael met her eyes. "What are you?"
"I am root and ruin. A vessel of the old forest. I was once like you… until I chose the Vine Crown."
She turned, and the briar-throne opened behind her like a maw.
"Come with me, Thornblood. Let me show you what the kings buried."
Beneath the throne, stairs descended—spiraling downward into a hollow chamber pulsing with green light.
"There is power here," she said. "But it has a cost. All relics do."
Cael looked down the stairs.
The Scabbard pulsed, uncertain.
But something below called to him.