Chapter 5: Theron

She’d opened the door.

I felt it happen, the exact moment Delphine Ashwood’s hand touched the carved sigil deep within the West Tower. It reverberated through me, the sensation so sharp, so acute, it felt as though she'd touched a nerve directly beneath my skin. I closed my eyes briefly, jaw tightening against the flood of memories—and fears—that came rushing back.

I hadn’t felt anything like that in decades. The castle hadn’t allowed it.

“She found the vault,” I murmured to the empty air, barely daring to give voice to the words. Even spoken quietly, they felt dangerous, like an incantation that could awaken old ghosts.

The tower’s shadows shifted as if responding, the stones beneath my feet pulsing softly, acknowledging the truth I’d been avoiding: Delphine wasn’t just another spellworker. The castle knew her, recognized her, had opened to her.

A familiar, purposeful step echoed softly behind me—Valesa had arrived, punctual as ever. She paused quietly at my side, her presence both steadying and unsettling.

“So,” she said, voice deliberately gentle, “the witch found your secret after all.”

“Far faster than she should have,” I said quietly, unable to fully mask the irritation and unease in my tone. “She barely arrived, and already she's unraveling wards that took decades to set.”

Valesa studied me calmly, choosing her words carefully. “The castle was always going to react strongly to another Ashwood. We both knew that.”

“I underestimated her,” I admitted bitterly, the words sharp and reluctant. “Or perhaps I overestimated my own wards.”

Valesa tilted her head, quietly observant. “You could have reinforced them properly.”

“I did.”

She held my gaze. “Did you, though?”

I exhaled slowly, irritation flashing across my features. Valesa’s quiet insight often felt too precise, cutting right through carefully maintained illusions of control. “I reinforced them as much as they could handle.”

“But you could have done more,” she pressed gently. “You held back. Because of who she is?”

“Because of what happened last time,” I snapped, sharper than intended. The words hung in the air, bitter, painful reminders of mistakes made, lives lost, and promises shattered.

Valesa didn’t recoil—she never did. Instead, her gaze softened. “Theron, she’s not her ancestor. You mustn't let guilt cloud your judgment.”

“It's not guilt,” I said harshly. “It’s caution. We know exactly what her bloodline does to this place. It feeds it, wakes it. It makes everything more dangerous.”

“Then perhaps we shouldn’t have allowed her inside at all,” Valesa remarked evenly. “Yet here she is.”

“The Council left no choice,” I murmured bitterly.

Valesa exhaled slowly, her composure carefully maintained. “Then perhaps it’s time we spoke openly with her. Keeping secrets from an Ashwood has never worked in the past.”

“I don’t trust her,” I said softly, more to myself than Valesa. “She’s reckless, unpredictable.”

“And yet,” Valesa interrupted gently, “the castle trusts her enough to let her in. Perhaps you should at least trust the castle.”

“Trust is earned,” I murmured, voice edged with frustration. “Not given freely.”

She stepped closer, her tone softening further. “Theron, the wards are failing. She is the best chance we have. We need her—even if we fear what she might uncover.”

My jaw tightened, tension coiling deep within my chest. “And when she inevitably learns the truth? When she sees exactly what lies sealed beneath our feet?”

Valesa’s silence spoke volumes. Finally, she sighed quietly. “Then you’ll have to decide how much you’re willing to risk to protect her.”

My gaze sharpened, flashing with quiet intensity. “Protect her?”

Valesa’s voice softened. “She’s not just another witch, Theron. The castle chose her, just as it once chose—”

“Don’t,” I warned softly, voice dangerously quiet. “We don’t speak of her here. Not ever.”

Valesa met my eyes unflinchingly. “Perhaps it’s time we did.”

“I won’t make the same mistake twice,” I whispered harshly. “Not with another Ashwood.”

She regarded me quietly, a mix of empathy and challenge in her steady gaze. “Perhaps the mistake wasn’t trusting an Ashwood, Theron. Perhaps it was the way you handled that trust.”

The words struck me harder than I anticipated. I stared at Valesa, stunned by her quiet honesty. She rarely challenged me directly, choosing subtlety over confrontation, but today she stood firm, forcing me to face truths I’d spent years burying beneath layers of duty and cold authority.

I looked away, shoulders tight, words unwillingly honest as they slipped free. “If she learns the truth…she’ll hate me.”

Valesa’s expression softened further, sympathy edging into her quiet voice. “Perhaps. But Delphine Ashwood strikes me as someone who values truth more than comfort. Hiding the past only makes it stronger.”

“And if the past tears this castle apart?”

“Then perhaps it needs to,” she replied quietly. “We can't protect Castle Thorne forever by hiding from what’s beneath it.”

The silence stretched between us, heavy with all the things neither of us could say. Eventually, Valesa turned away, understanding I needed space to think, to wrestle with decisions that felt impossible.

“I’ll watch her,” she promised gently. “But I suggest you talk to her yourself—sooner rather than later.”

I nodded slightly, unwilling to commit openly. Valesa withdrew quietly, footsteps fading into silence, leaving me alone again.

I crossed slowly to the far wall, pressing my palm against the cool stone. The ancient runes carved there glowed faintly at my touch—fading, weakened by years and betrayal. I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of memories pressing in from every side.

The last time an Ashwood stood before the seal beneath Castle Thorne, she'd begged for mercy—not from me, but from the thing beneath our feet. Her pleas still echoed in my dreams, unanswered, haunting reminders of my failures.

Delphine was different. Stronger, perhaps. More stubborn, certainly. But the past had a way of repeating itself, and Castle Thorne was eager to replay its darkest history.

“You can’t have her,” I whispered harshly to the castle itself, my voice filled with quiet defiance. “I won’t let you.”

But deep within the stone, I felt something stir, responding softly, mockingly.

It was already too late. The castle had chosen—and this time, it had chosen her.