Tomas Thornwood's Arc

Chapter 7 of 12

The mage's trail ran cold by morning. Tomas found the iron box abandoned near a fallen log. He almost grabbed it. Auria caught his wrist. "It's bound to his blood," she said. "Break it wrong and everything inside spills onto whoever stands closest." Luca stood too close, ears flat, tail low. Tomas stepped in front of the boy. The box hissed on the ground, hot enough to blacken the leaves beneath it. They took the box to the old druid. Arthur Oakwhisper had taught Auria as a girl, before her people cast her out. He lived past the grove in a hut wrapped in ivy. His beard was white, his hands slow, his eyes kind. He did not flinch when Luca crept behind Tomas's leg. "A fox spirit," he said softly. "Welcome, small one." Then he saw the box, and his face went grave. "Blood-bound. Yes. I feared this." Arthur pulled a heavy book from a shelf. Its cover was cracked leather, its pages full of old spirits, good and cruel. He turned to a marked page. "You cannot smash it," he read. "The power flows to the nearest living thing. But a blood bond can be drowned. Running water breaks what blood ties." Tomas remembered the lake, his own blood spilling into the current, the shade's leash snapping. His chest tightened with sudden hope. "The lake," Tomas said. "We drown it there." Arthur nodded. "Carry it fast. Do not let it touch bare skin." Auria wrapped the box in cloth. They needed speed. Tomas whistled once, low and long. Hooves answered through the trees. The lead horse came, brown and white, calm even near the hissing box. Tomas pressed his palm to its neck. "Carry us," he said. The horse knelt. They rode hard for the lake. The box burned through the cloth against Auria's arms. She gritted her teeth and held on. Behind them, a scream rose from the woods, thin and furious. The mage had felt them moving his heart. Luca clung to Tomas's back, small hands shaking. "He's coming," the boy whispered. Tomas urged the horse faster. They reached the water's edge. The mage broke from the trees, one arm dead, poison dark under his skin. "Give it back!" he shrieked. Tomas took the box from Auria. It seared his hands. He ran to the shallows and drove it under the running current. The mage screamed and fell to his knees, clawing at his own chest. The box hissed once, then went cold and silent in Tomas's grip. The mage sagged. His scars stopped glowing. His power was gone, drowned. But he did not die. He looked up at Tomas with hollow eyes and laughed weakly. "You freed it," he rasped. "Every soul I fed the box. They're loose now." From the water, pale shapes began to rise, drifting toward the trees. Tomas held the dead box and watched them go, cold spreading through him.