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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖'𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇. It's all she can see when she looks at him, evidence of last night's activities. It's visible, but not swollen like his witches' runes, but she knows it'll heal into a beautiful scar that'll last for eternity.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He's been unusually calm since the sun rose, his thoughts centred on the girl resting in his embrace rather than his pack. Mate. My mate. Mate. Mine. Mate. She's surprised he held enough resistance to her to not mate in full, even though she thought he would sheath himself into her wide open legs. He spent the night with a raging hard-on with little relief except with the help of her hand. Instead, his mouth left kisses everywhere. Some brandishing, others featherlight. Each kiss brought down an abundance of bliss until the sky changed from dark to light.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's been seven days since their arrival, and now, they take the next step on their journey. Thorn gave them one direction, one that she knows Morrow opposes. Pailon welcomes no one without having ancient's blood. Neither of them have it. Only Morrow and his messy witches' concoction of it.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow slings his violin and bag over his broad shoulder, meeting her gaze as he stands upright. He must sense her recollection of the night's events as his ring-clad hand brushes against his mate's mark.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She tiptoes towards him, her own satchel of possessions strapped around her waist. Unlike her usual loose flowing dresses, she opts for baggy trousers and a tunic that drapes over her jagged physique. Her feet remain bare.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She cups his cheeks, but one hand goes astray so she scratches behind his ear.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Do you think it will work?" she whispers. They depart for Pailon, but she leaves the Dreamweaver's Bluff without her magic.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He looks away, but wraps his fingers around her wrist and brings the delicate skin to his lips. His kiss ignites her bones.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I promise I will get you your magic," he vows.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's lips curve. "It's not something you can steal. It's something I have to find on my own."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He smiles, a rare expression from the alpha. "I beg to differ."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He pushes past her and exits the spare room, descending down the stairs. Elowen slips on her own pair of leather boots before doing the same, her satchel of possessions hooked over her wings and shoulder. Morrow and Thorn's voices drift from the front parlour room, mumbles of instructions that fail to bring her excitement. For her, their expedition to Pailon will only spark defeat.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎As she passes the entryway to the dining room, she stops, her gaze attracted to the single burning candle. It still burns just as it always has. She recalls the icy darkness that descended upon her when Thorn snuffed it out, all counter effects to his mischievous fae tricks. The memory leaves her with a hollowed chill that lingers beneath her skin, something so polar to the burn she felt moments later. Her magic. There must be a fire in her, a magic inferno just aching to break free, one tantalised by the symphony of Morrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎When her train of thought recenters onto the alpha, she forces herself to meet with them in the parlour.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Thorn sits in a davenport chair, one pulled up to the edge of a walnut coffee table. Morrow also sits, hunched over and blanketed by his black wings, meadowed irises analysing the grid lines etched into an old map. Although yellowed from age, the map depicts a flawless rendition of the fae forests in the southeastern region of Yestrea. She catches the outlines of Dreamweaver's Bluff, a replication of the village that now remains in rubble and ruin. A thick red line represents the highway that they followed from above, as well as the luminary caverns where they stayed the night. Most of the region is polluted in thick woodlands, but a timid stream cuts between the illustration of foliage.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Thorn traces the stream with his finger. "Following this stream from above will be your best route. There is no definite road to Pailon, and if there was, it's probably been overgrown."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow grunts. "How far away is the stream from here?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Just a few acres to the west," he answers. "Follow the stream as much as you can until nightfall, then take refuge in a meadow," he points at an expanse of land lacking trees on the map. "Strangely enough, there are still patches of land untainted by the blight, as if some life still has the power to repulse it."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"How so?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Look, I can give you directions, but I'm not a fucking scholar with my head stuck in a dusty old scroll," Thorn grumbles. "Still, spending the night here will be your best bet, and the border to Pailon won't be far."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A tendon in Morrow's jaw tightens. "Have you been to Pailon's borders?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I have," the fae drawls, leaning back in his chair. He taps his fingers on his chin, his grey eyes misted over with old recollections. "It's why you need to do the rest of the journey on foot after the meadow. The wall constructed around Pailon is invisible and impenetrable, reaching as far up as the eye can see. You won't be able to fly over or through it."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"These forests are as thick as terran filth," the were-wyng curses. "We'll get the blight if we go on foot."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Well, have you ever seen a bird fly straight into a window?" Thorn holds his hands in front of him, miming the snapping of a neck. "You two will die on impact when hitting that border in the air. It's like a stone wall you can't see. At least if you stumble into it while on foot, you'll survive."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow's muscles tense, his thoughts suddenly becoming voluminous. He ripples with unsurety, a mixture of nerves and duty, but there's another thought that he tries to keep hidden. He scratches at the newfound bite on his neck, almost scraping it to the surface. If the witches' spells work, then he'll cross into Pailon's borders.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She'll be left behind.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow snaps his gaze towards Elowen, meadow hues piercing straight into her soul. "Don't fucking think that."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What do you expect me to do if you cross into Pailon?" she snaps, shaking her head. "If you go, then I'll turn around and leave."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Isn't that what you want?" he grits.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen huffs in annoyance. After last night, after spending the last week in the familiarity of his embrace, she's not sure what she wants. She still longs to return to the woods near the Reovellian highlands, but with her strengthened bond to Morrow, she's compelled to stay in his vicinity.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her eyes widen when it hits her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She wants to stay with him, a change in her that she never saw coming.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Of course he'd let her claim him and strengthen her bond to him, because then she would be more likely to stay. Perhaps it wasn't about his vulnerabilities and desire to fall with his mate. It was always about keeping her close, about keeping her captive.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Look at me," but the words don't come from Morrow. It's Thorn. Elowen finds his grey hues, ones usually so stoic and brutal, but now they've softened, like how a father admires their child. "Go with him to Pailon. You'll know the right choice when you get there. Not all journeys are meant to be done with others. Some things we need to do ourselves."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Won't I be risking my life by being out there alone?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The power to stay alive is in your hands, not his."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She can't stir the thought of Morrow's potential abandonment from her mind. Her creature's a needy little thing in her, gnawing at her mind as a way to keep close to the alpha. But the truth has always been known to her. It's something he's never hidden. Although bitten and marked by her, claimed in the throes of midnight lust, his pack becomes first. If the cure lies within the ancient's power, then he'll trek deeper into the heart of Pailon just to spare those he loves. It's not selfish, but rather selfless.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎For a moment, guilt consumes her for thinking he has to stay by her side, for being the reason he can't save Tabrien.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Thorn gazes out the dust-coated window where a faint stream of light cascades into the room. "You shouldn't waste anymore time if you want to reach the meadow by nightfall. The blight-woods are a vicious place once the sun goes down."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What are the odds of being crossed by a blight-nymph or pixie?" Morrow asks.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The rare crazed one still floats around, but they're not as plentiful as they once were."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Thorn reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a golden compass, the same one Elowen got from Oleander as a gift. He tosses it across the room towards Morrow, who catches it in his palms.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You'll need this on your journey for direction. One wrong turn will be a step closer to your death. Not that I care, but I'd rather see you succeed than die."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow nods, standing up from the davenport. Immediately, his gaze locks upon Elowen's, stepping close enough to her that his shadow towers above her frame. He cocks his head to the side, like an owl watching a little mouse from below. Instead of snatching her in his talons, he presses a tepid kiss to her crown. Her cheeks blush a raving red.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"If things go awry, go back to Tabrien," he whispers. "I know that isn't what you want, but my pack will take care of you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"But what about you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What happens to me in Pailon won't be a secret," he tilts his head, revealing that fresh mark on his neck, evidence of their matebond. His lips quirk. "Everything that happens to me, you'll feel through the bond. There's no use trying to get rid of me."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She swallows. "I wasn't trying to get rid of you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I know," he murmurs, then brushes past her towards the front entrance. The seven days at Thorn's abode have long since passed, and there's been little evidence of her magic. But it's there, even if it's a slight sensation within her bloodstream.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen begins to follow Morrow, but is quickly tugged back by Thorn.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She meets the fae's weathered eyes. Again, they appear softer than usual.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Stick close to that were-wyng, got it? Despite what I've said and the horrors I witnessed between you both last night, he's good for you. Protective. Swift. He puts up a damn good fight too, better than the majority of the warriors I've faced in my past."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Warriors? I didn't realise you were in battle."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He crosses his bulging arms, a tick in his jaw beating as rampant as a hare's heartbeat. "I did a stint in the fae royal guard before I came to Dreamweaver's Bluff. The royals discovered things about me that they shouldn't have and banished me out, and I'm fucking glad they did. From the letters Ollie sent me, it sounds like Novus lost track of his regime."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She attempts to imagine Thorn as a guard, one mixed in with the life of glistening armour and bedazzled tapestries. It's a far reach from the man she's come to know. He's meant for the ruggedness of nature, with all the charred edges and earthen mildew scents.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Thorn nods his head towards Morrow, who waits impatiently on the doorstep. "Whatever you choose once you reach Pailon's border, just know that I support it. You have a level head on you. And if you ever need refuge, my house is open to you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen smiles. "I'm assuming Morrow's not welcome back with all the noise he's caused."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He's a good companion, but fuck no," he laughs.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen turns to leave, but pauses once more. This man has been nothing but a pain in the arse for the past seven days, leaving her with aching muscles, bruises, and mental strains. Yet, it was under his tampering that she got the closest glimpse of the power rooted deep inside of her. He stirred it, and even now, it continues to awaken from its slumber.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her silver irises find his two grey storms. "Sorry for being a disturbance, but I'm grateful for your help in finding my magic."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You're not the first wyng to stumble onto my doorstep," he mutters. "I hope this isn't the last I see of you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It won't," she vows, then turns away from the fae and exits his home.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Deep in her mind, she knows she'll see him again, because if Morrow leaves her at Pailon's borders, it's no longer the Reovellian highlands she'll flee too. It'll be the isolation of the ruined village, one so far from life that no terran in the right mind would find her. Thorn would train her until her powers become unleashed.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And Morrow? He's a whole other dilemma she'd rather not think about. He would find her if she came back here.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"We need to get moving," he orders. "There's no use wasting anymore fucking daylight."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Then, with a flap of his black wings, ascends into the heavens above. She follows him, letting the breeze carry her through the morning sun and deeper into the abyss of the blight-woods.

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it's a little bit of a shorter chapter, but it's a good conclusion to our time with Thorn. with little known about Pailon, it'll be interesting to see what Morrow + Elowen learn upon their arrival, and if they can even cross into Pailon.

Or, make it back alive and unscathed by the blight.

Anywho, have a great week!

ivy <3