There are things about Thorn Court that even its king does not fully understand.
It remembers footsteps.
It knows which doors should open—and which should remain locked.
Candles have been known to ignite before a hand reaches for them. Corridors seem longer on certain nights. Rooms appear where no room should be, while others vanish entirely.
Most who live within the Court have learned not to question it.
They call it old magic.
Elara isn’t so sure.
From the moment she crosses its threshold, the castle seems aware of her in a way it has no business being. Doors yield beneath her hand. Shadows shift when she passes. And sometimes, in the deepest hours of the night, she could swear the walls themselves are breathing.
Caelen tells her Thorn Court has always had a will of its own.
What he doesn’t tell her is why it has suddenly begun paying attention to her.
Perhaps the castle recognizes something no one else does.
Perhaps it has been waiting.
Or perhaps Thorn Court has secrets even the Dark King has forgotten.
And castles, like people, do not always give up their secrets willingly.
— From the Thorn Court Archives
