Chapter 3 Touch That Stirs

The guest chamber in Thornvale Manor was a cage dressed in velvet, its opulence mocking Auren's racing heart. Moonlight bled through tall, arched windows, painting the four-poster bed in silver and shadow. The air was heavy, scented with lavender and something sharper, like the tang of old blood.

Auren paced, her boots scuffing the plush rug, her green cloak discarded in a heap. Her magic hummed beneath her skin, a restless tide that hadn't quieted since Kael's touch-since she'd survived it.

Her fingers brushed the scar on her palm, and the locket from her vision flashed in her mind, its engraved initials a riddle she couldn't solve."Get it together, Auren," she muttered, her Southern lilt sharp with frustration.

"You're here for the gold, not to play hero in some cursed fairy tale." But her words felt hollow, like leaves scattered in a storm. Kael Thorne wasn't just a job. He was a fire, and she was kindling, drawn to him despite every warning screaming in her bones. His eyes-gray as a winter sea, heavy with centuries of pain-haunted her.

And that touch... it hadn't killed her. It had woken her.She stopped pacing, her gaze snagging on a mirror above the dresser. Her reflection stared back-amber eyes too wide, curls escaping her braid like a rebellion. She looked like a woman on the edge, and she hated it. "You've faced worse," she told herself, but the lie tasted bitter. Worse than a man whose touch was death? Worse than her own magic, which had burned her lover to ash three years ago? She clenched her fists, shoving the memory down, but it clawed back, his scream echoing: Auren, why?A knock at the door jolted her.

"Healer," came Gavric's gruff voice. "Lord Thorne requests you. Now."Auren's stomach twisted, but she squared her shoulders, her sass snapping into place like armor. "Tell his lordship I don't jump for anyone," she called, but she was already moving, grabbing her cloak. She needed answers-about Kael, the curse, and why her magic sang in his presence like a hymn she'd forgotten.Gavric led her through the manor's labyrinthine halls, the walls adorned with tapestries that seemed to shift in the torchlight-hunters chasing stags, only to become the prey. Auren's magic pulsed, sharper now, and a vision flickered: a locket, blood pooling around it, a man's voice whispering, "You were mine first." She stumbled, her hand grazing the wall, and Gavric glanced back, his scar stark in the dim light."Keep moving," he growled, but his eyes held a flicker of unease.

"The manor... it watches."Auren forced a grin, though her heart hammered. "Sounds like it needs a hobby." But her bravado faltered as they reached a greenhouse, its glass panes fogged with mist.

The doors creaked open, and the air hit her like a lover's breath-warm, thick with the scent of earth and blooming nightshade. Vines curled along iron trellises, their flowers glowing faintly, like stars trapped in petals. At the center stood Kael, his coat discarded, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms corded with muscle and scars that told stories she wasn't ready to hear.He was tending a rosebush, its thorns sharp as daggers, but the flowers were dead, their petals black and curling. He didn't look up as she approached, his voice low, almost tender.

"They die no matter what I do," he said, his fingers hovering over a wilted bloom. "The curse doesn't care for intent. It takes everything."Auren's chest ached, her own guilt mirroring his. She stepped closer, her boots crunching on gravel. "Maybe you're just a lousy gardener," she said, her tone light but her eyes soft. "Ever try talking to them? Plants like that, you know."Kael's head snapped up, and for a moment, his lips twitched, a smile fighting to break free. "You're bold, healer," he said, his gray eyes locking onto hers.

"Most would run from me. Yet here you are, jesting in the face of death.""Death and I are old friends," Auren replied, her voice quieter now, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Her scar burned, and she saw her lover's face again, his eyes wide with betrayal. She shook it off, stepping closer, the roses' scent dizzying. "Why am I here, Kael? You don't need a healer. You need a miracle."His gaze darkened, and he set the pruning shears down, the clink loud in the silence. "You're wrong," he said, moving toward her, his presence a tide pulling her under. "You're the miracle. You touched me and lived. That hasn't happened in..."

He stopped, his jaw tightening, as if the words were a wound."In what?" Auren pressed, her magic flaring, urging her to dig deeper. "Years? Decades? What are you, Kael Thorne?" Her voice was sharp, but her heart raced, drawn to the pain in his eyes, the way his hands flexed as if fighting the urge to reach for her.He turned away, his shoulders rigid, and the roses trembled, their petals falling like tears. "I was a warrior," he said, his voice raw, "until I crossed a sorcerer who wanted more than my life.

He took my future, my family, my..." He stopped, his breath hitching. "Everything I touch dies, Auren. Except you."Her magic surged, and a vision struck: Kael, younger, kneeling in blood, a woman's body in his arms, her face blurred but familiar. Auren gasped, clutching her chest, and Kael spun, his eyes wide. "What did you see?" he demanded, stepping close, too close, his breath warm against her cheek."Nothing," she lied, but her voice shook, and her magic was a storm now, wild and unbound. She felt him-his grief, his rage, like a song woven into her bones. "Just... your curse. It's strong.

Stronger when I'm near you."Kael's hand hovered near her arm, not touching, but the air between them crackled, electric. "You feel it too," he said, his voice low, urgent. "The pull. It's not just the curse. It's... us."Auren's heart stuttered, her sass faltering.

"There's no us," she snapped, but the words felt wrong, like denying the sun. Her magic hummed, whispering of gardens and blood-red moons, of a love that burned brighter than death. She stepped back, her boots scraping, needing distance, needing air.But the greenhouse had other plans.

The vines shuddered, their glow pulsing, and a low hum filled the air, like a heartbeat from the earth. Auren's magic spiked, and pain lanced through her, sharp as a blade. She cried out, dropping to her knees, and Kael was there, his hands catching her shoulders before he could stop himself."Don't!" she gasped, but it was too late. His touch was fire, not death, and her magic roared, merging with his curse in a clash of light and shadow.

The roses bloomed, their petals blood-red, then withered in an instant, the greenhouse trembling as if alive. Auren's vision blurred, and she saw it-a locket, her initials carved in silver, clutched in a hand stained with blood. A voice, not Kael's, whispered, "You'll always be mine."Kael yanked his hands back, his face pale, his scar stark against his skin. "What have I done?" he rasped, stumbling back, the roses crumbling to ash around him. "I didn't mean-"Auren's breath came in gasps, her body trembling but alive. Her magic settled, but it was different now, stronger, as if his touch had unlocked something. "I'm fine," she said, forcing herself to stand, though her legs wobbled. "But your curse... it's not just you. It's me."Kael's eyes widened, fear and wonder warring in his gaze. "What do you mean?"Before she could answer, the greenhouse doors burst open, and Gavric stormed in, his sword drawn. "My lord!" he shouted, his eyes darting to the ash-strewn floor.

"The manor's wards are breaking. Something's awake."Auren's magic flared, and a new vision hit: a man, his face hidden, standing in a circle of blood, chanting her name. Her brother's voice-Rowan, presumed dead-echoed: "Stay away from him, Auren." She swayed, clutching Kael's arm without thinking, and he steadied her, his touch warm, not deadly."What did you see?" Kael demanded, his voice urgent, his hand lingering on hers.Auren pulled free, her heart pounding. "Trouble," she said, her voice sharp with defiance. "And I'm not running from it." But as she followed Gavric out, the manor's shadows seemed to coil tighter, and her magic whispered a truth she wasn't ready to face: Kael wasn't her enemy. He was her mirror, her fate-and the key to a past she'd buried.The locket's image burned in her mind, and somewhere in the manor, a door creaked open, its echo like a scream.