Chapter 27F — The Thorn-Beast's Question
The path did not stay a path for long.
The further Aiden walked, the less it felt like ground and more like he was moving along the inside of a vein. The mist clung closer, threads of dim green and pale gold pulsing through it in slow, rhythmic waves.
Like a heartbeat.
Not his.
The Hollow's.
He kept one hand near his side, fingers flexing, feeling the storm's quiet prowl beneath his skin. It wasn't thrashing anymore. Ever since he'd grabbed the thorn-mark and let it burn into him, the lightning had curled tighter, more focused.
Not calm.
Just… listening.
"Right," he muttered under his breath. "You and me, we play nice in here. No exploding unless we have to, deal?"
The storm swirled once, almost like a cat flicking its tail.
He chose to take that as yes.
The mist thickened abruptly.
One step, two—and the world narrowed into a chamber.
He hadn't seen walls before, but they were here now, rising up all around him. They weren't stone or wood. They were grown.
Roots twisted together in massive braids, pressed so tightly they'd fossilized into something like black bone. Thorns jutted from them in serpentine spirals, glowing faintly green where runes had been carved along their length.
Above, there was no ceiling—just darkness, layered mist, and a faint, unreachable shimmer like stormlight behind glass.
The path ended at a rough circle in the center of the chamber.
Aiden's boots stopped just short of it.
The circle's ground was different: packed dark earth, bare of roots, bare of thorns. A shallow depression. A ring.
An arena.
"Oh, I hate that," he said softly.
The Hollow didn't answer.
The mist did.
It pulled away from the circle in slow, precise strands, leaving the center unnaturally clear. For a moment, nothing else happened. Aiden could hear his own breathing, count each beat of his heart.
Then the root-walls shivered.
The sound was low and creaking, like an old ship straining in a storm. Vines curled inward from the edges of the chamber, loosening from the walls. Thorns bent like claws flexing, then snapped free entirely, dropping into the circle with dull, heavy thuds.
They didn't stay separate.
They rolled.
They slid.
They crawled toward each other like pieces obeying a magnet, snapping together in bursts of motion that were too fast for the eye to follow. Roots coiled, thorns locked, runes flared and sank. Something hunched, unfolded, and stood up.
Aiden took an involuntary step back.
The Thorn-Beast was not beast-shaped.
Not really.
It had four limbs and a center mass, but everything else looked wrong. Its "legs" were bundles of petrified vine, jointed in too many places. Its back was a bristling hill of amber-tipped thorns. Where a head should be was a knot of roots twisted into a jagged crown, with a single slit of green fire where eyes might have been.
Lightning threaded through its body—thin lines of pale blue-white running along thorn edges and root-grain. Not its own, Aiden realized. Residual resonance.
His.
The thing took a step.
The circle shook.
He heard nothing—no growl, no breath—but the air itself tightened, as if the Hollow had drawn in a long inhale and was holding it.
Aiden's storm rose, eager and uneasy.
[TRIAL FORM: THORN-GUARDIAN] [OBJECTIVE: MEASURE CONTROL — NOT POWER] [CONDITION: DO NOT EXCEED SAFE RESONANCE THRESHOLD]
"Control," he muttered. "Right. Control. You're not here so I can blast you apart. You're here to see if I flinch."
The Thorn-Beast's crown turned, that slit of green light focusing on him.
Something brushed against his mind—not a voice, not quite—but an impression:
Show me.
Aiden swallowed.
The last time something that wasn't a person spoke in his head, it had been an Aberration trying to mark him; before that, a fog-entity calling him found.
He didn't love adding "murder-root trial monster" to the list.
"Okay," he said aloud, because silence made his thoughts too loud. "Ground rules. I don't want to die. You probably don't care. But the nice lady who runs the school would be very grumpy if your exam killed me, so—"
The Thorn-Beast moved.
It didn't lunge.
It didn't charge.
One moment it stood in the center of the ring; the next, it was on him, thorn-limbs blurring with impossible speed.
Aiden threw himself sideways.
A thorned limb scythed through the air where he'd been, leaving a bright green afterimage burned into his sight. Wind tore at his coat. Something sharp nicked his shoulder as he rolled.
He hit the ground hard, breath blasting out of him.
Lightning leapt up his spine, begging to arc.
He almost let it.
Almost.
The Thorn-Beast didn't press the attack. It turned with disjointed, insect-like grace, root-limbs bending backward, sideways, then realigning. It watched him push up to one knee.
Waiting.
Probing.
"So that's how it is," Aiden rasped. "You poke until I snap."
The storm crowded his ribs, the urge to answer speed with power intense.
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat.
Saw Myra screaming his name in the collapsing Hollow.
Saw Nellie's hand shaking in his when the Aberration roared.
Saw the pup hurl itself between him and teeth.
If he lost it here… if he let the storm run wild…
What if the Gate couldn't contain it?
What if it spilled out?
What if the next trial wasn't a controlled Hollow, but Myra's dorm or Nellie's bed or Runa's training yard?
He opened his eyes.
"Not today," he whispered.
The Thorn-Beast shifted its weight.
Its legs coiled.
It disappeared.
Aiden barely saw the blur this time. Instinct screamed, and he threw himself forward instead of back, sliding across the dirt. A thorn-limb stabbed down where his chest had been, sinking into the ground with a jolt that turned the earth momentarily black and glassy.
Lightning crackled up the limb into its body, then drained away.
It's feeding off my resonance, he realized.
Not to grow.
To taste.
To test.
"If you're bored," he gasped, "you could just give me a written exam."
The beast yanked its limb free, dirt spraying. It pivoted, impossibly light for something made of wood and bone, and swiped with a back-leg this time—low, sweeping, fast.
Aiden jumped.
Not high enough.
Thorns raked across his forearm, ripping through cloth and skin alike.
Pain detonated up his arm.
It wasn't like a normal cut. The thorns left something behind—cold and biting, like a delayed frost. His fingers spasmed. Blood welled, dark and startling against the pale green glow of the chamber.
The Hollow reacted.
Every root in the walls pulsed once.
Rings appeared in the dirt around the blood droplets, faint and perfect, like ripples in a still pond. The Thorn-Beast froze mid-motion, its crown turning toward the wound with animal sharpness.
Aiden clutched his arm, teeth gritted.
Great. Now I've donated.
The storm roiled, reacting to the pain. Lightning snapped through his chest, licking at his ribs. His vision brightened at the edges, colors sharpening to painful clarity. He could feel the Hollow now not just around him, but under him—veins of old magic waiting to see if he'd bleed power or discipline.
The Thorn-Beast took one slow step closer.
The slit of green in its crown brightened.
Know yourself, something in the Hollow whispered.
He thought of how easy it would be to stop holding back. Just once. Let the storm out. Let it roar through the trial, splintering the guardian, tearing the root-walls, shattering the thorns to glittering dust.
Just like in the Hollow.
Just like when he'd screamed at the monster: Not them.
His hand shook.
Lightning crawled down his injured arm, tracing the blood's path in hot, burning lines.
[WARNING: RESONANCE SURGE IMMINENT] [THRESHOLD: 72%… 79%… 84%]
The numbers felt like teeth closing.
His lungs stuttered.
Aiden dropped to one knee, slamming his uninjured hand into the dirt.
"Not. Yet."
The word tore out of him.
The Thorn-Beast tensed, as if bracing for a strike.
But instead of sending the storm out—
He dragged it in.
It felt like trying to pull a river uphill with his bare hands.
Lightning bucked inside him, furious at being leashed. His muscles screamed. Sweat erupted down his back. The cut on his arm flared white-hot, then settled into a deep, throbbing ache as the wildest of the charge receded from it.
[RESONANCE: 63%… 54%… 41%] [STATUS: BORDERLINE — CONTAINED]
He sucked in a shuddering breath.
The Thorn-Beast's crown dipped a fraction, that green slit narrowing with… interest? Approval? It lifted one limb, slower this time, and touched one thorn-tip into the blood-smeared dirt.
Runes bloomed outward from the point of contact, circling the ring. They etched themselves into the ground in spirals and jagged lines that wrapped around Aiden's knees, his hands, his boots—and then climbed.
Not physically.
Invisibly.
He felt them like cold threads weaving through the air, wrapping around his chest, spiraling up his injured arm.
He hissed as new marks burned briefly under his skin.
Not scars.
Not tattoos.
Patterns.
[THORN SEAL: FIRST BINDING COMPLETE] [TRIAL JUDGMENT: ACCEPTABLE CONTROL] [PERMISSION GRANTED: ESCALATE]
"Oh, that sounds reassuring," he croaked.
The Thorn-Beast rose to its full height.
For the first time, it made a sound.
Not with a mouth—it had none—but with its entire body. Roots ground against roots, thorns scraped together in a long, grating hiss, and somewhere deep in its core, something cracked like splitting stone.
The green slit in its crown burst into full, blazing light.
Veins of emerald fire raced down its limbs, filling every rune-carving, every grain line.
It had been testing him before.
Now it was waking up.
"Oh come on," Aiden said weakly. "I passed your little control test, and your reward is—hard mode?"
The Hollow answered.
Not with words.
With gravity.
The air thickened. Every breath grew heavier, like he was inhaling water. The dirt under his hand vibrated, a low tremor that rattled his bones. Lightning tremored in response, eager again.
This time, he didn't shove it all down.
"Fine," he said. "We do it your way."
He pushed to his feet.
His injured arm protested; he ignored it. He let a thin line of lightning slide down from his chest into his muscles, not enough to burst free, just enough to sharpen his reflexes. His senses stretched—he could feel the tiny charge in the air when the Thorn-Beast shifted its weight, the flicker of energy in each glowing rune, the faint echo of his first blood-mark pulsing in the ground.
The beast moved.
So did he.
It lashed out with two limbs this time, crossing angles to trap him between them. He dove forward, rolled under one, and snapped his uninjured hand up toward the other—not with a full bolt, but a focused jolt.
Lightning cracked against thorn.
The impact didn't blow the limb apart.
It twisted it.
The vine-bones spasmed, thrown off their perfect rhythm. The limb slammed into the dirt beside him instead of his ribs, carving a furrow.
The feedback hit his arm like splinters.
"Okay," he hissed. "Note: don't punch the living gate-guardian with raw lightning. That's on me."
The Thorn-Beast recoiled, crown twisting toward him in a jerky, unnatural motion. Its glow faltered for a heartbeat.
The Hollow watched.
Waiting to see what he did with that tiny advantage.
Aiden's heartbeat thundered.
He thought of Myra, always pushing forward even when she was terrified.
He thought of Nellie, stepping between strangers and fear because healing was the only way she knew how to live.
He thought of the pup, small and sparking and furious, biting at a monster's shadow.
He was not here to be a weapon.
He was here to become something that could protect them and still be himself.
"Control," he said aloud. "Not just of power. Of purpose."
He drew the storm in tighter.
Not choking it.
Shaping it.
Lightning wound around his injured arm again, gentler this time, numbing the pain without flaring beyond his skin. Threads of faint blue-white coiled down his fingers like ghost-webs.
The Thorn-Beast gathered itself.
He could feel the charge building in it now, a mirror to his own—runic power, Hollow power, storm-echo. It lunged, all four limbs driving it forward like a thrown spear.
Aiden stepped into it.
Not away.
He slid just out of the main line of its charge, hand snapping out to plant against its side where the roots were less dense. He let a controlled surge of lightning spill from his palm—not wild, not full force, but a ring of energy that wrapped around the nearest cluster of runes.
His storm grabbed hold of them like hands grabbing a rope.
The beast convulsed.
Its limbs splayed, momentum thrown off. It crashed sideways into the ring, thorns gouging the hardened dirt. Cracks spidered out from the impact.
Lightning ran back up Aiden's arm, biting hard, but he held his grip for one breath, two—
Then let go.
The Thorn-Beast lay in the dirt, limbs twitching, its crown's light flickering like a candle in a draft.
Aiden staggered back, gasping, chest burning.
[RESONANCE: 69%… 61%… 52%] [IMPULSE CHECK: MAINTAINED] [HOLLOW VERDICT: CONTROL RISING]
Thorns around the chamber flared once in unison, bathing the space in ghostly green. The root-walls shuddered again, this time less like strain and more like approval.
The Thorn-Beast slowly pushed itself up.
Some of its thorns had gone dark.
Others blazed brighter.
It stood—not aggressive now, but solemn. The slit of light in its crown narrowed into a thin line.
For an absurd, dizzy moment, Aiden thought:
It's bowing.
Roots beneath his feet shifted.
A circle of runes blossomed around him like a flower opening—lines of light wrapping his boots, ankle, calves, climbing in stacked rings. They rose to his chest, haloed around his arms, then sank into his skin so fast he almost screamed.
He didn't.
He clenched his jaw until it ached and rode it out.
When the last of the light vanished, the Hollow whispered:
[SECOND MARK: ACCEPTED] [THORN TRIAL: PHASE ONE COMPLETE] [ACCESS: GRANTED — INNER HOLLOW]
A crack opened in the far wall.
It wasn't loud.
It was worse.
Silent.
A seam simply appeared between two massive root-braids, widening slowly, revealing a narrow corridor beyond. Faint light glowed inside it—not green this time.
Pale blue.
Stormlight.
Aiden's storm reacted instantly.
It leapt.
He staggered, one hand slapping to his chest as if he could physically hold it down.
"Easy," he rasped. "We're not… done."
The Thorn-Beast turned toward the new passage.
Then, without a sound, it unmade itself.
Thorns fell away, roots unwinding like undone braids. All the pieces that had made it separate scattered back to the walls, rejoining the fossil-vines and runic ridges until there was no sign it had ever stood there at all.
As the last shard of its crown sank into the root-wall, a final, faint impression brushed his mind:
Not prey. Not weapon. Choice.
Then that, too, faded.
Aiden stood alone in the ring.
Breathing.
Bleeding.
Marked.
He stared at the newly-opened corridor, where pale-blue light pulsed like a distant storm seen behind mountains.
Something waited in there.
Not a construct. Not a test-guardian.
Older.
Hungrier.
Maybe not part of the Academy's plans at all.
He thought of Elowen's warning:
"Whatever chased that lightning cub has not stopped searching."
A distant rumble rolled through the Hollow.
Not loud.
Not near.
But close enough that his storm shivered in answer.
Aiden exhaled, flexed his injured arm, and stepped toward the inner passage.
Behind him, the Thorn-Hollow sealed the ring with a soft, final rustle—
and far ahead, in the storm-lit dark,
something that had been turning in its sleep
finally opened its eyes.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
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