King Aldric Thornhaven's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

King Aldric Thornhaven walked the cold halls of his castle again, a candle shaking in his hand. He turned the tarnished silver ring on his finger, the one the good man he used to be had worn on his wedding day. Each night he searched for the dark mirror hidden somewhere in his own walls. Each night he failed, and each morning he woke a little less himself. He stopped at a cracked granite marker he had dragged into the lower hall weeks ago. He had carved a fresh notch into it for every failed search. The notches now covered three sides. He pressed his palm to the stone and tried to remember the man who carved the first one. A small shadow darted past his boot. A ferret with ink-stained whiskers skittered along the wall, a torn scrap of parchment in its teeth. It had been chewing his letters for months. Tonight, it ran somewhere new. Aldric followed. The ferret slipped behind a tapestry he had passed a thousand times. Behind it, hidden in the bedrock, stood a low arched door with brass locks and shelves carved deep into the stone. Roots curled above it like patient fingers. He had walked past this wall every single night. He pressed his hand to the brass. The locks were warm. Something inside hummed against his palm, slow and familiar, like a heartbeat he had grieved for a year. Aldric drew a shaking breath and began to carve a final notch into the marker behind him. He had found it. Now he had to open it — and he already knew his own hands would not let him.