Chapter 2: Theron

I watched her arrive from the solitude of the northern tower, the stone walls cool against my palm as I leaned forward slightly. The castle shifted subtly around me, a ripple in the wards responding to her presence. It was subtle, nearly imperceptible—but unmistakable.

She stepped from the carriage confidently, cloak billowing behind her like a flag. Delphine Ashwood. The witch sent by the Council, whether I wanted her here or not. Her hair caught the dying sunlight like embers, and she surveyed Castle Thorne not with the expected caution but with something dangerously close to excitement.

She wasn’t afraid. That concerned me.

Valesa joined me a moment later, her footsteps soft and deliberate on the polished stone. Her presence was always steadying, a quiet voice of reason in a castle steeped in secrets and shadows. She followed my gaze, studying Delphine with guarded interest.

“You disapprove,” I said quietly, not turning to face her.

“She’s powerful,” Valesa conceded carefully. “But power alone doesn’t guarantee safety.”

“She wasn’t my choice.” My voice sounded colder than I intended. “The Council sent her.”

“Because of her bloodline.” Valesa’s tone held a hint of reproach. “They think lineage alone can save us.”

I finally turned toward her, catching the sharpness in her dark eyes. “We know better.”

Valesa didn’t respond, not immediately. She simply inclined her head, thoughtful. She’d served my family faithfully for over a century, bearing witness to betrayals, wars, and darker sacrifices. She understood, better than most, the stakes if the wards failed. But even her loyalty had limits.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” she said eventually. “But you should meet her soon. The others are already talking.”

“Let them talk.”

“Rumors breed unrest,” she reminded gently. “And this castle needs stability now more than ever.”

“I’ll see her when I’m ready,” I replied firmly, ending the conversation.

Valesa withdrew silently, the click of the tower door closing behind her leaving me once again in solitude. My gaze returned to Delphine. She had moved inside, disappearing from view, yet the faint disturbance in the wards lingered.

Delphine’s presence had already affected the castle’s magic—stirring it awake in ways it hadn’t been in decades. I felt it beneath my feet, pulsing through the stone, an ancient hunger returning, sensing something familiar, something necessary.

I turned away from the window and crossed the chamber to a wide table cluttered with maps, scrolls, and half-finished notes. One particular scroll sat apart, edges worn thin from frequent handling. The Ashwood crest glowed faintly, enchanted ink reacting subtly to the presence of its descendant.

A quiet knock interrupted my thoughts.

“Enter.”

Cassian stepped inside without waiting for further permission, arrogance lacing his every move. His youthful appearance and deceptively charming demeanor concealed the true danger of his ambition.

“My lord,” he said, bowing slightly, an almost mocking gesture. “The lower quarter grows restless again. Another ward-light has failed. Rumors of the curse spreading.”

“They’re always restless,” I responded curtly. “The wards have been weak for years.”

Cassian smirked slightly. “But never this weak. Never with such convenient timing as her arrival.”

“Delphine Ashwood is here to fix them,” I stated coolly.

“Or break them entirely,” Cassian countered. “After all, the last Ashwood—”

“That’s enough.” My tone sliced through the air sharply. “Return to your duties.”

His eyes flashed briefly, anger carefully masked behind civility. He bowed again, retreating smoothly, leaving a subtle air of challenge behind.

I exhaled, the tension knotting in my chest. Cassian was a threat, but not nearly as immediate as the waking magic beneath Castle Thorne. The wards flickered unsteadily beneath my fingers as I pressed them against the table’s edge, grounding myself in their familiar, failing strength.

My mind wandered back to the first Ashwood who had walked these halls. Her sacrifice had kept the darkness sealed away, but at great cost. I remembered her defiance, her rage—a fury unmatched by any witch since. Delphine carried that same fierce independence, that dangerous curiosity.

The castle had already recognized her.

And part of me—a part I fiercely guarded—wondered if she was the answer we’d needed all along, or if she was destined to doom us further.

I moved toward the chamber’s far wall, placing my hand against the cool stone, tracing hidden glyphs with practiced precision. The lines flickered faintly, dimmer each passing day. The seal beneath the castle weakened steadily, waking slowly, inevitably.

“You sense her, don’t you?” I murmured to the quiet stone.

The wards pulsed once, a quiet affirmation.

Delphine Ashwood wasn’t just here to repair wards. She had awakened something ancient, something that recognized her bloodline. Something that had waited centuries for precisely this moment.

And I would do everything necessary—even things I swore never to repeat—to ensure it never fully woke again.