“These wards…” Rafe crouched beside the nearest barrier, his gloved fingers tracing the luminescent symbols etched into the air. “They’re self-sustaining. Drawing power from the estate itself.”

  Vesper’s attention caught on a series of deep gouges in the stone wall, their edges blackened as if burned by intense heat. Whatever had made those marks had been powerful—and desperate. Her fingers brushed against the scarred surface, and a jolt of residual magic sparked through her palm. The estate’s power felt ancient, heavy with centuries of accumulated spells.

  More battle scars revealed themselves as her eyes adjusted to the gloom—blast marks on the columns, claw-like scratches carved deep into the foundation stones.

  Vesper watched Rafe’s hands move through the air, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns of magic that held the wards together. Her own magical senses had grown sharper since discovering her Resonant abilities, and she could see how the protective spells wove through one another like threads in an elaborate tapestry.

  “Here,” she murmured, pointing to a nexus where several spell-lines converged at an arched entrance barred by a wrought-iron gate snarled with ivy. “The magic feels different there. It converges.”

  Rafe nodded. “Good eye. That’s the anchor point.” His magic reached out, gentle and precise, beginning to untangle the threads. “Can you feel how the patterns shift?”

  She could. The wards rippled like disturbed water, sending cascades of magical energy through the remaining barriers.

  “Give me a hand, would you?” He nodded toward the nexus. “It’ll be easier with your knack for unravelling things.”

  “I don’t see how you’re going to take down the whole lot,” Blair said. “If no one else can crack the wards, how can you?”

  “We don’t need to take down all of it,” Rafe said. “Just make a hole big enough for us to fit through. And besides, no one else had a Resonant backing them up.” He winked at Vesper. “Let’s cut a hole in the fence, eh?”

  “If you show me what to do.” Vesper placed her hands alongside Rafe’s, sensing rather than seeing where to pull next. “Oh, I see…” Their magic worked in harmony, his experience guiding her natural intuition.

  The wards pulsed with increasing frequency as they dismantled each layer. Colours she had no names for danced across her vision. The magic felt alive under her touch, ancient and aware in ways that made her skin prickle.

  “Almost there,” Rafe murmured. “Ready for the final sequence?”

  “Yeah.” Vesper positioned her hands where the last threads converged. Together, they pulled gently, unravelling the remaining spells. The wards shimmered one final time before collapsing inward with a sound like breaking glass, though nothing visible shattered.

  “Et voilà!” Rafe said. “One hole.”

  Blair stepped forward first, her watch vibrating against her wrist, and she pushed at the gate. When it opened with a loud shriek of rusted metal, she flinched, but slipped through. Vesper followed, with Rafe close behind, swatting away tendrils of ivy.

  The moment they crossed the threshold into the garden, the air changed. Sound seemed to die in their throats, swallowed by an unnatural quiet that pressed against their ears. Even their footsteps fell silent on the overgrown path.

  The stillness felt wrong, as if the garden itself held its breath. Vesper’s magical senses screamed at the wrongness of it all. Nothing moved—not a leaf, not a blade of grass, though she could feel power thrumming beneath the surface of everything around them. The frost descending across the city didn’t touch the garden either.

  The garden’s paths twisted impossibly. Dark roses climbed crumbling walls, their petals black as pitch, stems wrapped in thorns that gleamed like polished obsidian.

  She picked up traces of old spells woven into every plant, every stone. The magic felt wrong—corrupted somehow, as if something had poisoned the soil. The plants seemed to lean away as they passed, their movements too deliberate to be natural.

  “Look at these.” Vesper crouched beside a cluster of flowers she’d never seen before. Their petals were translucent, showing shadows of things moving inside that made her stomach turn. She quickly stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans.

  Rafe’s hand brushed her shoulder. “Don’t touch anything. Some of these plants are twisted. No telling what they might do.”

  They passed beneath an arch of twisted vines, their leaves an impossible shade of purple that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The path opened into what must have once been a formal garden, now grown wild and dangerous. Statues stood half-buried in vegetation, their faces worn smooth by time and magic.

  Blair moved ahead, her watch humming steadily. “The magical signature’s stronger here. It must be the thorn.”

  The centrepiece of the garden was a fountain, long since dry. Dark vines had claimed it entirely, weaving through the stone like veins in marble. As they drew closer, Vesper noticed the vines all seemed to originate from a single point—a bush that grew from the fountain’s highest tier. Unlike the other plants, this one seemed perfectly maintained, its leaves a deep emerald despite the corruption surrounding it.

  The placement felt wrong to her. Far too obvious. The Nightreach she knew revelled in chaos and deception—this seemed suspiciously straightforward.

  Something shifted in the garden’s atmosphere. Vesper’s skin prickled as the magical energy around them changed, becoming denser, more alert. The vines along the path began to move, twisting and coiling like living things. Her breath caught as she watched them ripple across the ground, weaving between fallen leaves and broken stones.

  Whispers filled the air—countless voices speaking words she couldn’t quite catch. They seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, echoing in her mind rather than her ears.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked, but her voice sounded strange and muffled in the thick air.

  The vines moved faster now, writhing like snakes in the undergrowth. Their movements weren’t random—they were purposeful, coordinated. Hunting.

  Movement flickered at the edge of her vision. Vesper turned, heart hammering. For a moment, she saw nothing but shadows between the trees. Then the darkness shifted, condensed, took form.

  The creature that emerged was like nothing she’d seen before. Its body seemed crafted from living wood and moss, joints creaking like ancient branches in a storm. But its eyes—they blazed with feral intelligence, pools of green fire that fixed on their group with predatory focus.

  Vesper’s magical senses screamed as the creature gathered itself. One heartbeat it stood perfectly still, the next it launched itself toward them with impossible speed, bark-covered limbs extended like claws.

  The whispers rose to a fever pitch as the creature attacked, and Vesper could finally make out one word repeated over and over: Intruders.

  Vesper stumbled backwards as the creature lunged, but before she could reach for her dagger, Blair moved.

  The detective’s form blocked her view, stance wide and steady as she thrust out her hand. The ring on Blair’s finger flared with brilliant light, and a translucent barrier materialised between them and the creature.

  The wood creature slammed into the barrier with enough force to make Blair grunt. Its barked claws scraped against the magical shield, sending off sparks of energy. The creature’s eyes blazed brighter, rage filling its features as it tried to break through.

  Intruder, intruder, intruder!

  Blair’s shoulders tensed, her whole body rigid with concentration. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought to maintain the barrier against the spirit’s relentless assault. The shield flickered, threatening to fail under the onslaught.

  “Rafe!” Blair’s voice was strained.

  Rafe’s spell crackled through the air, a bolt of pure energy that struck the creature’s flank. The spirit whirled toward this new threat, its attention divided. Blair seized the moment, pushing forward with both hands. The barrier surged outward, forcing the creature to retreat several paces.

  The creature’s form wavered, branches creaking as it reassessed its opponents. Its burning gaze swept over them, calculating, predatory.

  “What is that thing?” Vesper cried.

  “A nature spirit,” Rafe said. “Born from wild magic left unchecked.”

  Vesper gasped as more spirits emerged from the shadows. They moved like living nightmares, their forms fluid and unstable—one moment bearing the aspects of wolves or bears, the next taking on almost human shapes, but always made from living vegetation. Green fire burned in their eyes as they stalked forward, hemming the group in.

  “This isn’t good,” Rafe muttered. His hands traced complex patterns in the air, magic crackling between his fingers. A ring of spelled light flared around them, keeping the spirits at bay. But Vesper could see the strain in his face—he couldn’t hold them off forever.

  Blair’s barrier spell still contained the first spirit, but more were gathering. They tested the edges of Rafe’s protective circle, probing for weaknesses. Their whispers filled Vesper’s head, a cacophony of hissing voices demanding they leave, threatening to tear them apart.

  They needed the thorn, but fighting the spirits would drain their energy and time. There had to be another way.

  “Hold the barrier. I’ve got an idea,” she said.

  Vesper closed her eyes, reaching for that place inside where her Resonant magic lived. The garden’s power surrounded them, ancient and wild. It sang to something deep in her blood, a primal force that recognised her own nature.

  The spirits’ magic felt wrong—corrupted and twisted by years of abandonment. But underneath that taint, she sensed something pure. Something that called to her.

  Vesper let her awareness expand, pushing past the spirits’ interference. The garden’s layout spread through her magical senses like a map drawn in light. Power flows, old spells, hidden paths—she could feel them all. And there, pulsing with untainted energy, a single point of brightness that had to be what they sought.

  “Keep them busy,” she whispered, maintaining her focus. “I can find it.”

  The spirits howled, sensing her probing magic. They hurled themselves against Rafe’s barrier with renewed fury. Vesper gritted her teeth, fighting to maintain her concentration as chaos erupted around her. She had to find that thorn.

  Vesper let the chaos of battle fade into background noise. Her Resonant magic unfurled like a flower opening to moonlight, sensing the currents of power flowing through the corrupted garden. The spirits’ whispers grew louder, pressing against her mind with increasing urgency.

  Leave… Intruders… Death…

  She pushed through their voices, searching for something else. There—a pure note, steady as a heartbeat. The sound pulled at her blood, calling to the magic that lived in her bones.

  “This way,” she said, eyes still closed as she turned toward the source. “Rafe, can you move the barrier with us?”

  “Just point the way.” His voice was tight with concentration.

  They moved as one, Blair and Rafe flanking her as she followed that distant hum. The spirits prowled alongside them, testing the barrier’s edges. Their wooden bodies creaked and shifted, green fire eyes tracking every movement.

  Thorny vines whipped at the magical shield, leaving trails of dark energy that fizzled against Rafe’s spellwork. The deeper they pressed into the garden, the thicker the growth became. Ancient trees loomed overhead, their branches weaving together to block out what little light filtered through Nightreach’s eternal twilight.

  The hum grew stronger, vibrating through Vesper’s chest. Her magic responded, resonating with whatever lay ahead. She could feel it pulling her forward, past tangles of corrupted roses and pools of stagnant water that reflected impossible colours.

  They rounded a corner formed by two massive hedges, and a wall of thorns rose before them, each spine longer than her arm and black as obsidian. But beyond that barrier, she sensed it—the source of that pure note, calling to her through the garden’s corruption.

  “It’s through there,” she whispered, opening her eyes. “Behind those thorns.”

  Vesper’s magic thrummed as they approached the wall of thorns. The corruption that tainted the rest of the garden felt muted here, held at bay by something older and purer.

  “Stay clear of those spikes,” Rafe warned. “I don’t like the look of them…”

  He traced a careful path through the thorns, his magic carving a narrow tunnel just wide enough for them to pass single file. Blair kept watch behind them, her enchanted items glowing as the spirits circled their position.

  The tunnel twisted through the thorny barrier, forcing them to move sideways at points to avoid the deadly spines. Vesper’s sleeve caught on one, and she froze as the fabric tore. The slight contact left the thread edges blackened, and she dared not think what would happen if it cut her skin.

  When they emerged into the clearing beyond, Vesper’s breath caught. Here, at last, was something untouched by the garden’s wild anger. The thorn grew from the same vines that surrounded them, but remained pure…protected. It was smaller than she’d expected, no longer than her little finger, but its presence filled the space with tangible power.

  This was old magic—creation magic—pure and undiluted by time or darkness.

  Her hand lifted of its own accord, drawn to that golden light. The thorn’s aura intensified as she drew closer, its glow brightening in response to her presence. Her fingers trembled as they brushed against the thorn’s surface.

  Magic surged through her, racing up her arm and spreading through her chest. Her Resonant abilities flared to life, harmonising with the thorn’s ancient power. For a moment, she felt connected to something vast and timeless—a glimpse of magic in its purest form…and it allowed her to break it free.

  The thorn pulsed with golden light in Vesper’s palms, its power radiating outward in waves. The wood spirits fell silent, their burning eyes fixed on the ancient relic. Their whispers changed, becoming softer, almost mournful.

  One by one, the spirits retreated into the shadows of their corrupted garden. Their wooden forms seemed to melt away, green fire eyes dimming until they vanished completely. The oppressive atmosphere lifted, leaving behind an almost peaceful silence.

  Vesper turned to her companions, carefully cradling the thorn. “That was unexpected.”

  “They were its guardians,” Rafe said, his voice soft with understanding.

  “It let me take it.” She looked up at Rafe. “I think…”

  “If it didn’t, we probably wouldn’t be standing here,” Blair finished. “But where did those spirits go?”

  “There’s nothing left for them to protect. Perhaps they can finally rest.” Rafe gestured at the twisted plants surrounding them. “Who knows? Maybe life will return here properly now.”

  Blair’s watch had stopped humming, the magical disturbance settling. “Well, either way, we should go before they change their minds.”

  Vesper wrapped the thorn carefully in a silk cloth from her pocket, tucking it safely away. Then they retraced their steps through the garden, which seemed a great deal less malevolent.

  As they reached the garden’s entrance, Rafe held back. “Give me a moment.” His hands moved in precise patterns, reconstructing the wards they’d dismantled earlier. Magic flowed from his fingers, weaving new barriers to replace the ones they’d broken. “They deserve their peace,” he said, finishing the last spell. “Even corrupted spirits need a home.”

  The wards shimmered into place, sealing the garden once more. Through the barrier, Vesper caught a final glimpse of the twisted roses and shadow-touched trees, now seeming more melancholic than menacing.

  Thank you, she thought, hoping the creatures would hear. Rest easy…

  Chapter 10

  Cassandra’s fingers traced the silvery threads of magic, each pulse sending ripples of shadow across her pale skin. The ley line’s ethereal glow cast sharp shadows across the chamber’s ancient stones, their surfaces etched with forgotten runes that seemed to writhe in the shifting light.

  Through the magical current, she observed the three figures moving through an overgrown garden. The Resonant girl’s powers flickered like starlight, leaving traces in the magical weave that even a blind mage could follow. Beside her, Thorne’s protective magic created interference patterns in the ley line’s flow, whilst the mortal detective’s presence registered as a curious void.

  “So predictable.” Cassandra’s lips curved into a cold smile as she watched Vesper reach for the thorn. The garden’s spirits recoiled from the girl’s touch, their ancient magic recognising something that even Vesper herself had yet to understand.

  The ley line’s light caught the silver in Cassandra’s hair, turning it to liquid moonlight. She lifted her other hand, darkness coiling between her fingers like smoke. The corrupted magic left grey traces in the air, remnants of the price she’d paid for power. D’Arco’s teachings had changed her, transformed her into something beyond the petty constraints of traditional magic.

  Golden light blazed through her connection to the ley lines. The thorn’s power rippled, its ancient magic singing. Her fingers tightened around the silvery threads, drinking in every detail of Vesper’s successful retrieval.

  The garden spirits scattered like leaves in an autumn wind, their retreat confirming what Cassandra had long suspected about the Resonant’s true nature. The corner of her mouth lifted in cold amusement as she watched Vesper cradle the thorn.

  Darkness coiled around her wrists as she leant closer to the magical viewing portal, studying the way Thorne hovered protectively near the girl. The detective’s presence complicated matters, but perhaps not irreparably so. The three of them had stumbled onto a path she knew all too well—one that Selene had walked before them.

  “The thorn, the water, the crystal…” The words fell from her lips in a whisper, each syllable charged with dark promise. Her fingers traced the air where the thorn’s golden light still lingered in the magical weave.