I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. My mind was a mess. I knew I needed answers, but every step I took felt like I was walking deeper into something I wasn't ready for. Thorne's presence was suffocating, and his words were like weights hanging in the air.
He stepped closer, his eyes dark in the low light. "I could ask you the same thing, Asher. What are you really after?"
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to snap at him. "I want answers," I said, my voice steady, though my insides were anything but. "I need to fix what's broken."
Thorne's lips curled into a small smile, but there was something unsettling about it. "Answers, huh? I think I can help you with that. But first, you'll need to trust me."
Trust him? The words tasted like poison on my tongue. I didn't want to trust him, not Thorne. He was dangerous, manipulative—yet, part of me knew that if I didn't listen now, I might miss something important. Something I needed.
My mind raced, but I forced myself to stay calm. "What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice low and cautious.
Thorne's gaze didn't waver, his eyes burning into mine. "I want you to see the bigger picture, Asher. There's more to all of this than the magic you're so focused on."
I swallowed hard. Magic was all I had been focused on, all I thought mattered. But now, Thorne was telling me it wasn't enough. That there was something else, something bigger that I wasn't seeing.
I felt my chest tighten with anxiety. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice quieter now, but full of urgency.
Thorne didn't answer right away. Instead, he took another step closer. I didn't move, but every part of me screamed to step back, to put distance between us. The air around us felt heavy, like it was charging with something I couldn't understand.
"There's more at play here than you know," Thorne said finally. "More than just the resurrection magic. It's a tool, Asher. A tool in a bigger game. And you're part of it."
I frowned. A tool? Part of a bigger game? What was he talking about?
I couldn't stop myself from asking. "What bigger game? What do you mean?"
Thorne's smile faded, his face turning serious. "You're not just some player in this, Asher," he said, his voice dropping lower, as if to make sure I heard every word. "You've been marked. And now, they're watching you. They won't stop until they have you."
My mind raced. Marked? Who was watching me? What did he mean by that?
Thorne's expression darkened. "The resurrection magic isn't just about bringing people back. It's about control. Control over life and death. And there's someone who wants that power. Someone dangerous."
I felt a chill run down my spine. "Who?" I whispered, though I wasn't sure if I even wanted to know the answer.
Thorne's eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite place. "The Order of the Black Rose."
The name hit me like a blow. The Order of the Black Rose. I'd heard the whispers, the rumors about them—dark magic, secret rituals, all wrapped in mystery and fear. They were a shadow in the supernatural world, and now Thorne was telling me they were real. And they were after me.
"Why me?" I asked, barely able to force the words out. "What do they want with me?"
Thorne stepped back, his eyes scanning the room as if making sure no one was listening. His voice dropped lower, and the air around us seemed to thicken with tension.
"It's not about what you've done, Asher," he said, his voice cold. "It's about what you could become. You're a bridge. The magic you're using—it's a doorway to something bigger. And they want to control it."
I felt my stomach twist. A doorway? A bridge? What did he mean? Was I just a tool for someone else's plans?
Before I could ask more questions, I heard it—the soft sound of footsteps outside the door. My body tensed, and every part of me screamed for me to move, to hide. But I couldn't.
Thorne was already reacting, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the door. "Stay quiet," he whispered, his voice urgent. "And stay out of sight."
I didn't need to be told twice. I stepped behind a nearby bookshelf, holding my breath, trying to stay as still as possible. My pulse raced, my ears straining to hear any movement.
The footsteps stopped outside the door. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. Whoever it was, they weren't here by accident.
There was a knock on the door, sharp and quick. My heart skipped a beat.
Thorne's face tightened. "Stay back," he ordered, his voice low. "And don't make a sound."
I pressed myself flat against the wall, barely able to breathe. The door seemed like miles away. Every part of me was on high alert. I could feel the presence outside, the pressure building, and I had no idea who it was.
Another knock came, this one louder and more forceful. It felt like a warning.
"Who is it?" Thorne called out, his voice cool but steady.
"Let me in, Asher," a voice called from the other side, rough and demanding.
I froze. Caleb. It was Caleb.
My heart pounded harder. What was he doing here? Why now?
Thorne didn't look at me, but I could see his eyes flash with something—caution, suspicion. His hand hovered over the door handle, as if debating whether to open it.
The voice on the other side of the door grew more insistent. "Asher, I know you're in there. Let's talk."
Thorne shot me a glance, his expression unreadable. Then he turned his attention back to the door, his fingers still on the handle. "Stay hidden," he whispered. "Don't make a sound."
I nodded, though my chest was tight with fear. This wasn't just a conversation anymore. This was something bigger, something dangerous.
The knocking continued, harder now. "Asher, open up. Now."
I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. And then, just as I thought the door would burst open, I heard it—a new sound, softer, more deliberate.
I turned around, my heart leaping into my throat. There, standing in the doorway, was Liam.