Lyssara's POV
I slam into solid ground so hard the air rushes from my lungs.
For a moment, I just lie there gasping, my whole body aching from the impossible fall. Above me, the hole we fell through seals itself with vines and earth, leaving only darkness.
"Get up." The Thorn King's voice cuts through the black. "We need to move."
"Move where?" I roll onto my side, coughing. "What just happened? Where are we?"
A cold hand grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet. I stumble against him, and that electric shock courses through us again—his sharp intake of breath tells me he feels it too.
He releases me immediately, stepping back like I burned him.
"The forest pulled us into the Deep Roads," he says. His voice sounds strange—rougher, almost shaken. "The ancient paths beneath the Thornwood. No one has walked them in centuries."
"Why would it do that?"
"Because something wants us somewhere specific." He turns away, and I hear him moving through the darkness. "And when the forest wants something, fighting it is pointless."
A soft golden glow appears—his hand, surrounded by pale light that illuminates the space around us. We're in a tunnel carved from living roots. The walls pulse like a heartbeat.
"Stay close," he orders. "The Deep Roads are dangerous even for me."
"Everything about this place is dangerous," I mutter, but I follow him because what choice do I have?
We walk in tense silence. The tunnel slopes downward, twisting deeper into the earth. My magic is still fizzing under my skin from losing control earlier, making my fingertips glow faintly gold.
"Your magic," the Thorn King says abruptly. "When did it first appear?"
"When I was seven." The memory makes my throat tight. "The day they burned my mother, I tried to stop them. Made dead flowers bloom around the execution platform. Father covered it up, said it was the wind scattering petals. But he knew. He's always known."
"And he kept you hidden."
"Kept me small," I correct bitterly. "Locked in an attic. Barely fed. Told me every day I was cursed, shameful, worthless. That I should be grateful he didn't turn me in like Mother."
The Thorn King stops walking. "Your father is a coward."
"My father is a monster." The words taste like poison. "He let them burn the woman he supposedly loved. Then he tried to erase me for sixteen years. And when he finally had an excuse to get rid of me, he grabbed it with both hands."
"By sending you to me."
"By murdering me and calling it noble." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "The kingdom will celebrate. They'll sing songs about the brave volunteer who saved them all. And no one will remember that I was screaming, bleeding, begging them to stop."
Silence stretches between us. Then:
"I'll remember."
I blink at his back. "What?"
"I remember every bride," he says quietly. "Every name. Every face. Every lie they told themselves to walk to their death with dignity." He glances back, and in the dim light, his eyes are haunted. "You're the first one who didn't pretend. The first one who told the truth about what this really is."
"Murder."
"Yes." The single word is heavy. "I've committed a thousand murders. And for centuries, I felt nothing about it. The brides came willing—or so I was told. I completed the ritual. The forest fed. The kingdom prospered. It was just... duty."
"But now you feel something." It's not a question.
His jaw tightens. "Now I feel everything. Your fear. Your rage. That connection when we touch—I can't make it stop. It's like your life force is tangled with mine, and I can't separate them anymore."
My heart pounds. "Is that what the forest meant? When it called me queen?"
"I don't know what the forest meant." He starts walking again, faster now. "But we're about to find out."
The tunnel opens into a massive cavern. And in the center, lit by streams of moonlight filtering through cracks above, is an altar.
Not the killing altar from his castle. This one is ancient—covered in carvings that glow with soft silver light. Flowers grow around its base. Living flowers, in this place of death and thorns.
"I've never seen this before," the Thorn King breathes. "And I've ruled this forest for a thousand years."
I step closer, drawn by something I can't name. The carvings on the altar aren't just decorations—they're words. A language I shouldn't be able to read but somehow understand.
"'The covenant of balance,'" I whisper, tracing the glowing letters. "'Life and death must dance together. Neither can rule alone. The bridge between them shall wear two crowns—thorns and roses, shadow and light.'"
"That's not the covenant I know." The Thorn King moves to my side, reading over my shoulder. "Mine says the forest feeds on willing sacrifice. Death sustains life. Blood for prosperity."
"This one is older." I can feel it—ancient magic humming through the stone. "Much older than your covenant."
"Then what happened? How did it change?"
I keep reading, my hands moving across the carved words. "Here—'The bridge was broken on a day of betrayal. The prince of thorns died by poison and grief. His resurrection twisted the covenant from balance to hunger. Now the forest starves on death alone, waiting for the one who can restore what was lost.'"
The Thorn King goes absolutely still. "The day I died. The day my bride murdered me and I called on the forest to save me."
"You didn't just get resurrected," I realize, the pieces falling into place. "You became a replacement for something else. The covenant wasn't supposed to need death—it was supposed to need balance. Life and death working together."
"But I only brought death. For a thousand years." His voice cracks. "I've been starving the forest while thinking I was feeding it."
"That's why it's dying." I look up at him. "That's why the brides stopped being enough. That's why it pulled us down here and called me—"
"Queen," he finishes. "Because you have life magic. Because you're the opposite of what I am."
We stare at each other as the truth settles between us like a living thing.
"The forest doesn't want me to kill you," he says slowly. "It wants me to—"
The cavern suddenly shakes. Rocks fall from above, smashing around the altar. The flowers wither and die in seconds. And from the tunnel behind us, I hear something that makes my blood freeze.
Voices. Many voices. And the unmistakable sound of boots on stone.
"They followed us." The Thorn King spins toward the tunnel. "Sariel's forces. They found the entrance to the Deep Roads."
"How is that possible?"
"It shouldn't be." His expression turns savage. "Unless someone who knows the old ways showed them. Someone who wants to stop whatever the forest is trying to do."
Sariel's voice echoes down the tunnel, getting closer: "Find them! The witch cannot be allowed to reach the heart of the forest!"
My magic flares in response to my panic. Golden light bursts from my hands, illuminating the entire cavern.
And that's when I see it.
Beyond the altar, half-hidden in shadow, is another tunnel. But this one doesn't feel like the paths we walked before. This one feels alive—warm air flowing from it, carrying the scent of growing things.
"There." I point. "That's where we need to go."
"How do you know?"
"Because the forest is telling me." I can feel it now—that same voice from before, singing in my bones. "It wants us deeper. At the heart."
The Thorn King looks at the advancing tunnel behind us, then at the warm path ahead. His face hardens with decision.
"Run."
We sprint toward the living tunnel. Behind us, Sariel's forces pour into the cavern. I hear her scream of rage when she sees us.
"Archers! Stop them!"
Arrows whistle through the air. One grazes my shoulder, and I cry out. The Thorn King yanks me forward, his thorns erupting from the ground behind us to block the path.
We plunge into the warm tunnel. It closes the moment we're through—vines and roots sealing it like a door.
But I can still hear Sariel screaming on the other side: "I'll burn this entire forest down before I let that witch claim what isn't hers!"
The Thorn King and I stumble forward, gasping for breath. The tunnel slopes even deeper, warmer with each step. My shoulder throbs where the arrow cut me.
"Here." He tears a strip from his sleeve and wraps it around my wound. His touch is surprisingly gentle. "Can you keep moving?"
"Do I have a choice?"
A grim smile. "Not if you want to live."
We walk for what feels like hours. The tunnel grows brighter—not from our magic, but from the walls themselves. They're covered in luminescent moss and flowers that bloom as we pass.
Finally, the tunnel opens into a chamber so beautiful it steals my breath.
A garden. Underground, impossible, but absolutely real. Trees grow toward a ceiling lit by thousands of glowing crystals. A stream runs through the center, and the air tastes like spring rain.
And in the very center of the garden, where the stream begins, is a tree unlike any other. Massive, ancient, with bark that glows silver and leaves that shimmer gold. Its roots dig deep into the earth, and I can feel its power from here—the source of all the forest's magic.
"The Heart Tree," the Thorn King whispers. "I thought it was a legend."
"It's real." I move toward it like I'm being called. "And it's dying."
Because it is. For all its beauty, I can see the rot—blackened branches, withered leaves, roots that crumble to ash. The tree is being eaten away from the inside by a thousand years of starvation.
As we get closer, the bark shifts. Words appear, glowing silver against the trunk.
The covenant is broken. Balance must be restored. Life and Death must choose: remain separate and watch everything die, or bind yourselves together and save what can still be saved.
Choose now.
Choose together.
Or lose everything.
The Thorn King looks at me. I look at him.
"What does that mean?" I ask. "Bind ourselves together?"
"I think," he says slowly, reaching out his hand, "it means what happened when we touched. That connection. The forest wants to make it permanent."
"That's insane. We barely know each other. You tried to kill me—"
"And you're the only person in a thousand years who made me feel alive." His eyes meet mine. "I'm not saying it's what we want. But it might be what we need to do."
The tree pulses with light. The words glow brighter.
Choose. Now.
Behind us, far up the tunnels, I hear the sound of Sariel's forces breaking through. She's coming. And when she arrives, she'll destroy this place to get to me.
The Thorn King's hand is still outstretched.
"If we do this," I say, my heart hammering, "what happens to us?"
"I don't know."
"That's not reassuring."
"Nothing about this is reassuring." But his voice softens. "But I know what happens if we don't. The forest dies. The kingdom dies. And Sariel wins."
I look at his hand. At the Heart Tree dying before my eyes. At the only path forward.
I take his hand.
The moment our skin touches, the world explodes into light.