Ivy’s hands still trembled from the blood on her fingers—Elias’s blood, spilled by her uncontrolled shadow-blade. His words—*“You’re more dangerous than I thought”*—echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder of the power she barely understood. The library’s shadows had watched her, their eyes glinting with malice, and Damien’s draining touch had left her weak, his jealousy clashing with Elias’s collapse. She’d fled the room, her heart a storm of guilt, fear, and defiance, needing space to breathe. But the manor offered no refuge, its walls groaning as the Thornwood’s whispers grew louder, chanting her name like a death knell.

The blood moon hung low in the sky, its crimson light seeping through the manor’s windows, casting an eerie glow. Ivy stood at the edge of the Thornwood, her boots sinking into the damp earth, drawn by a pull she couldn’t resist. She needed answers—about the pact, the Shadow Court, and the men bound to her. Lucian’s heavy footsteps crunched behind her, his presence a mix of comfort and danger. She didn’t turn, her eyes fixed on the forest’s twisted trees, their branches clawing at the moonlight.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lucian said, his voice rough, laced with the same anguish she’d seen in the parlor when he’d fought the Shadow Court’s emissary. “The Thornwood’s not safe, Ivy. Not tonight.”

She spun, her green eyes blazing. “Nowhere’s safe,” she snapped, her voice trembling with the weight of Elias’s injury and Damien’s curse. “Not with you keeping secrets. You were there when my parents died, Lucian. I saw you in the vision. Tell me what happened, or I’m going in alone.”

His face tightened, the scar across his brow stark in the moonlight. He stepped closer, his towering frame blocking the wind, his scent of leather and steel grounding her despite her anger. “Ivy,” he said, his voice low, raw, “I can’t change what I did. But I need you to listen.”

“Then talk,” she said, her heart pounding. “No more half-truths. I deserve to know.”

Lucian’s eyes glistened, a storm of guilt and resolve. “I was the Shadow Court’s assassin,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Bound by their will, same as I’m bound to you now. They ordered me to hunt your parents, to… trap their souls in the Thornwood. I didn’t kill them, but I couldn’t save them either.” He paused, his hands clenching. “I lost someone too, Ivy. Someone I loved. That’s why I obeyed—because they’d take more if I didn’t.”

Her chest ached, his pain mirroring her own. She wanted to hate him, to push him away for his role in her parents’ fate, but the rawness in his voice, the way his hands shook, made her pause. “Who did you lose?” she asked, her voice softer, almost a whisper.

“My sister,” he said, the words barely audible. “The Court took her to control me. I’ve been trying to make it right ever since. Protecting you—it’s all I have left.”

Ivy’s breath caught, a pang of empathy mixing with her anger. She stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him, to see the torment etched into his features. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice trembling. “You let me think you were a monster.”

“Because I am,” he said, his voice rough, desperate. “But not to you, Ivy. Never to you.” His hand reached for her, hesitating, then cupping her cheek. His touch was warm, steady, a contrast to the chaos around them. “I’d burn the world to keep you safe.”

Her heart lurched, torn between his sincerity and the betrayal still stinging her. The blood moon’s light bathed them, the Thornwood’s whispers rising to a fever pitch. She leaned into his touch, her defenses crumbling, and then his lips were on hers—a desperate, hungry kiss that tasted of guilt and need. Her hands gripped his jacket, pulling him closer, the world fading as desire surged through her. For a moment, she forgot the pain, the secrets, the danger.

But the forest reacted. Roots burst from the ground, coiling around their legs, their touch cold and invasive. Ivy gasped, breaking the kiss, her heart hammering as the Thornwood’s whispers turned to screams. “Lucian!” she cried, her hands clawing at the roots, but they tightened, pulling her down.

“Hold on!” Lucian shouted, his dagger slashing at the vines, but they only grew thicker, pulsing with life. Ivy’s chest tightened, a familiar energy stirring within her—the same shadow magic she’d unleashed in the library. She focused, her hands glowing with dark tendrils, and lashed out, severing the roots. They recoiled, hissing, and she stumbled free, Lucian catching her before she fell.

“You did it,” he said, his voice thick with awe, but his eyes—his eyes glowed briefly, a sickly yellow that wasn’t his own. Ivy froze, her heart seizing. “Lucian?” she whispered, fear creeping into her voice. “What’s wrong with you?”

He blinked, the glow fading, but his face was pale, his breath uneven. “It’s nothing,” he said, too quickly, turning away. “We need to get back to the manor.”

“No,” she said, grabbing his arm, her voice fierce. “Your eyes—they weren’t you. What’s happening?”

Before he could answer, a shadow moved in the forest, taking form—a woman, her face Ivy’s mother, her eyes wide with terror. She pointed at Lucian, her voice a scream that echoed through the trees: “Murderer!” The figure vanished, leaving only silence, but the word hung heavy, a blade in Ivy’s heart.

She stumbled back, her breath shallow. “Lucian,” she said, her voice breaking, “tell me she’s wrong. Tell me you didn’t—”

“I told you,” he said, his voice raw, his hands raised as if to shield himself. “I didn’t kill them. But the Thornwood… it shows what it wants you to see.”

Her heart pounded, doubt and desire warring within her. She wanted to believe him, to cling to the man who’d kissed her like she was his salvation, but the vision—her mother’s scream—cut too deep. The Thornwood’s whispers returned, softer now, mocking: *Choose, or we choose for you.*

Ivy turned, her eyes scanning the forest, the blood moon casting everything in a crimson haze. Lucian reached for her, but she stepped back, her heart torn. “I need to know the truth,” she said, her voice trembling. “All of it.”

Before he could respond, the ground shook again, and a new shadow moved—a figure, cloaked, watching from the trees. Ivy’s blood ran cold. Was it the emissary? The faceless fourth from the diary? Or something worse?