Page 24
The forest is peaceful here. Butterflies glide past, the patterns of their wings shifting mid-flight. Birds with jewel-bright feathers chirp from the trees, even the insects appear touched by magic, with shining eyes and iridescent shells. Wondrous, in a different way from Mist Island—yet the farther we travel, the more signs of ruin emerge: Fewer dandelions sprout, their glow dimmer, the grass sparser. More hostile thorns band the trees, their tips glistening as though dipped in blood. The songs of the birds fade, less creatures scuttling around, an unwelcome stillness settling into place.
“How long has Thorn Valley been like this?” I ask Jin.
“Does it make you uneasy? Have you grown accustomed to the wonder of your new home?” he asks penetratingly. “Perfection is easy to attain with magic. Here, everything we do is wrought through our own efforts, and those of the creatures who live here.” He speaks not with envy, but pride. “It was said that the beauty of Thorn Valley was once unrivaled in the realm.”
“Your home is beautiful still.” My words are unguarded. Honest.
His gaze softens. “Once these forests teemed with life, flowers as lush as grass, the trees crowned with fruit and blossoms. Our crops used to thrive, the rivers rich in life. The skies alive with birds and enchanted creatures,” he says quietly. “If only I could see it myself. Father told me the old stories of how it used to be, he showed me paintings. I vowed on his grave to restore our land.”
His hands tighten around the reins. “Grand dreams, when under my watch Thorn Valley has only fallen deeper into ruin. I am failing my father… what he fought for, what he died for. His legacy. I can’t even avenge him, forced into this false alliance with the Iron Mountains who caused his death.”
My heart aches for the pain he carries, that he concealed so well I never knew it existed. “Your father would be proud of all you’ve accomplished. You keep Thorn Valley safe during these perilous times, protecting your people.”
“It’s not enough,” he says bitterly. “I cannot heal my land, nor do we possess the weapons to defend ourselves.”
Except for me. The thought pricks, a warning. Jin needs the magic I possess—not only to restore Thorn Valley, but to guard it. Except I won’t turn against my own. “How did this corruption begin?”
“For as long as anyone remembers, the decay has existed here. It was said to have begun in the Ancient Grove, the trees dying. Over the years, it crept deeper into our land—worsening after Mist Island halted their aid. But when we returned from the Iron Mountains a few weeks ago, the pace of decay quickened. Now there is not a place here left untouched: our land, the thorns, the creatures.” His expression is solemn. “I must stop this.”
I want to help. If only he’d asked this of me instead of forcing my hand. My people should cross the waters to learn the truth, only then will they understand—perhaps then the alliance may be restored, strengthening us both.
We ride through a quiet stretch of forest, halting by a circle of trees. Dozens of them, a hundred or more, towering high, yet devoid of life. Thorns ring their bark, weaving between the branches and so tightly clustered they conceal what lies behind, red tips gleaming amid the brown and yellow.
Jin dismounts and helps me down. As he moves toward the trees, most of the thorns slither apart—except the red ones remain, glinting menacingly.
“Don’t touch them,” he warns, using his sword to push them aside as we make our way into the grove. “They hurt like fire, the wounds slow to heal. Nor can they be easily cut away.”
Inside the grove is a strange tangle of dreams and nightmares, reeking of despair. A cloying sweetness mists the air, laced with the sour tang of rotted fruit. The darkness thickens, roots puncturing the ground like talons, blades of withered grass spearing the ground, their tips snow-white. Spindly branches crown the dead trees, their cracked bark peeling to reveal a graying core.
Fear latches on to my bones. Yet amid the shriveled trees, one towers high, still shining with life—a Radiant Sky Tree like those on my island, except taller and more magnificent than any there. Gold vines with slender thorns coil around its trunk, a single rose blossoming from the snarl, the red petals dusted with iridescence… yet the edges curl with a hint of brown.
“The Rose of Thorn Valley,” Jin says. “It bloomed with the first Radiant Sky Tree here, and has never wilted since.”
“This is the emblem on your carriage?” I ask slowly. “On your soldiers’ armor?”
“The rose has become a symbol of our land. When the other trees sickened and perished, this one did not succumb. The rose is believed to have protected it, with many believing this keeps us safe too.”
“How did the other trees die?”
“No one knows, though I have searched endlessly for an answer. After their death, the decay seemed to stagnate here—we thought this tree safe, until recently,” he says bleakly. “As the rose wilts, the corruption seems to worsen within this grove and beyond.”
I stare at the rose, an inexplicable urge compelling me to touch it, my hand rising of its own volition. As Jin calls out in warning, my fingertip brushes the soft petals. Light sparks, heat surging through me—a sense of wonder and shock.
Jin looks as stunned, tilting his head, deep in thought. “The rose has marked you. You can now enter the Ancient Grove; the thorns will part for you… as though you are one of us.”
I stare at the flower, a deep warmth suffusing me. “Why?”
“Perhaps it’s the magic you bear, the mark of the Sun Dragon. It has never happened before.”
“Why did you bring me here? What do you wish me to do?” I ask.
His gaze is intent. “I believe if we can shield the rose from the decay and protect the tree, it will slow the corruption in Thorn Valley. Except my shields can’t be sustained for long, dispersing when the magic ceases to be channeled. I hope to craft a different kind of barrier to suppress the decay here—if you will help?”
“I will.” This won’t harm my people. If Thorn Valley is weakened, our island will be endangered, especially with the rise of the Iron Mountains. Even then, I can’t be discovered here, wary of drawing censure.
As I gather my magic, the coolness of Jin’s shield flows into me. I’m beginning to crave this seamless rush of power.
“Don’t be afraid.” He takes my other hand. “You won’t hurt me.”
