The Witch's Heart and The Mortal's Light(GL)

The Dreadwood no longer slept.

Not after that.

The spirit's destruction left behind a scar — a ring of scorched earth, its edges still smoking. Magic hissed through the soil like steam from cracked glass. Even the birds had gone silent.

Morgwyn stood at the center, staring at the place where Elara had made the impossible… possible.

"You didn't banish it," she said. "You soothed it."

Elara tightened her grip on the flute. "It didn't want to fight. It was just—bound."

Morgwyn turned. "You freed it."

"Isn't that what you've been doing for years?" Elara asked softly. "Freeing things that were never meant to be trapped?"

Morgwyn looked like she wanted to argue — but couldn't.

Back at the cottage, they said little.

Fen disappeared into the woods, uneasy. He hated the quiet after conflict — always more than the fight itself.

Elara sat by the window with the shard in her palm. It pulsed faintly now, no longer burning but… humming. Like a heartbeat.

Morgwyn finally spoke.

"She marked you."

Elara looked up. "Cressid?"

The witch nodded. "The sigil she cast — part of it wasn't for summoning. It was to imprint your energy. You're now on her threadline."

"I can be tracked."

"Worse. She can mirror your aura. Step where you've stepped. Slip into your dreams."

Elara's pulse jumped. "Then we're not safe anywhere."

Morgwyn stared into the fire. "We never were."

That night, Elara didn't sleep.

Instead, she stepped outside and climbed the spiral-root tree near the back of the glade. It rose like a staircase of memories, each branch engraved with old spell-glyphs — some faded, some active.

At the top, the air was clearer. Cooler. The moon was pale again, not red.

She whispered, "Thorne…"

No answer.

Just the rustling wind and the sound of a toad snoring below.

But then—

"Sleep evades those tangled in fate."

She turned sharply.

Thorne Elvastra sat a few branches above, barefoot, violet eyes aglow with starlight.

"You never knock," Elara muttered.

He smiled. "Oracles aren't bound by doors."

"Or decency, apparently."

He gestured. "Climb."

Elara did.

When she reached him, he held out a tiny satchel of stardust-wrapped sugarberries. "For the dreaming. They keep nightmares at bay. Mostly."

She took one. It tasted like honey and frost.

Then she asked, "Why did you really mark me?"

Thorne's eyes softened. "Because you are not a candle. You are a fuse."

"That's not comforting."

"Good. Prophecy should never comfort. It should ignite."

She told him what she saw. What she felt. What she did.

He listened quietly.

When she mentioned the creature bowing, Thorne closed his eyes. "That… was unexpected."

"Good unexpected or bad?"

"Both. The spirit bowed because it recognized power. But not Morgwyn's. Not Vel Ashen's."

"…Mine?"

He nodded. "You've stepped into an inheritance older than blood. You think it's just legacy. But it's more. It's permission."

"To do what?"

"To rewrite."

When Elara returned to the cottage, Morgwyn was waiting by the door, holding something wrapped in silk.

She offered it without a word.

Elara unfolded it.

Inside was a grimoire, its cover dark purple with inlaid ivy vines of silver. The pages smelled of old wood and stars.

"I've been writing it for a long time," Morgwyn said. "But never finished. Maybe… you can."

Elara stared at it.

"This is your spellbook."

"It was," Morgwyn said. "Now it's yours. Magic like yours… it needs space to grow."

Elara hugged it to her chest.

"I won't waste it."

That morning, birds returned to the Dreadwood.

The glade felt a little lighter. The wind a little warmer.

But far beyond the trees, on the cliffs that overlooked the Shattered Coast, Cressid Emberwyne watched the forest through a flame-carved lens.

She burned a lock of Elara's hair, stolen from the sigil mark.

And whispered:

"Let the tether tighten."

Behind her, the red-eyed figure from Vel Ashen stood silent.

"Is it true?" the figure rasped. "She bears Wynn's legacy?"

Cressid smiled. "Not just Wynn's. Something deeper. Something… divine."

END OF CHAPTER 10