The days stretched on like a blade, cold and unrelenting, their edge cutting deeper with each passing hour. Though the frost had thawed, the chill remained, settling into Sam’s bones like a curse. Lareth’s cryptic words echoed in his mind, relentless and unyielding:

  "Power such as yours is both a gift and a curse… The choices you make now will determine not just your fate, but the fate of those around you."

  He couldn’t escape the haunting refrain. The Monarch’s Revival pulsed within him, foreign and insistent, as though it carried its own will. The thought gnawed at him, twisting the edges of his sanity. Every night, his dreams were consumed by flames and shadows, a chaotic dance of creation and destruction. He would wake drenched in sweat, his heart racing, the specter of his death—and resurrection—looming over him.

  And now, the Threshold stood before him.

  The morning of their departure arrived too soon, shrouded in an eerie calm. The village seemed unnaturally quiet, the usual chatter of neighbors and playful cries of children replaced by a heavy stillness. The sky was overcast, a dull gray that mirrored the mood of those who stood to see Sam and Isonorai off.

  Claire fussed over Sam, her hands trembling as she tightened the straps of his pack for the third time. “Are you sure you have everything?” she asked, her voice thin and strained. “Water? Rations? A blanket? The forest is unpredictable—”

  “Mom,” Sam interrupted gently, placing a hand on hers. Her fingers were cold, her grip too tight. “I have everything I need. You’ve checked twice already.”

  Claire’s lips quivered as she stepped back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She seemed smaller somehow, her usual commanding presence overshadowed by fear. “I just… I can’t bear the thought of you out there alone.”

  “He won’t be alone,” Isonorai said firmly, stepping up beside him. She was already dressed for the journey, her sword strapped to her back, her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “I’ll be with him every step of the way.”

  Claire’s gaze flicked to Isonorai, her expression softening slightly. “I know you’ll protect him. But promise me you’ll also protect yourself.”

  Isonorai hesitated, then nodded. “I promise.”

  Caross approached then, his heavy boots crunching on the frosted ground. He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, his grip solid and reassuring. “You’re doing something I never could, son,” he said, his voice steady but laden with emotion. “Facing the unknown head-on. I’m proud of you for that.”

  Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll make sure this is worth it.”

  Caross leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And remember, strength isn’t just about power. It’s about knowing when to fight and when to retreat. Don’t throw yourself into something you can’t win.”

  Sam nodded, the weight of his father’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden.

  As they turned to leave, a small crowd of villagers gathered near the edge of the forest. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and fear, their whispers carrying on the wind.

  “Do you think he’ll come back?”

  “Did you see how pale Claire looked? She must be terrified.”

  “That forest isn’t natural anymore. Nothing good will come of this.”

  Sam clenched his fists, trying to block out their murmurs. He didn’t need their doubts—he had enough of his own to contend with.

  Just as they reached the treeline, a young boy ran up to them, clutching something tightly in his hands. It was a small wooden charm, crudely carved but clearly made with care.

  “Here,” the boy said, thrusting the charm toward Sam. “It’s for protection.”

  Sam crouched down, accepting the charm with a small smile. “Thanks, kid. I’ll keep it with me.”

  The boy nodded, his wide eyes filled with something that looked like hope. “You’ll come back, right?”

  Sam hesitated, then ruffled the boy’s hair. “Yeah. I’ll come back.”

  The boy’s face lit up, and he scampered back to the crowd.

  As Sam straightened, Isonorai gave him a sidelong glance. “You didn’t sound too sure about that.”

  “I’ll come back,” he repeated, more to himself than to her. “I have to.”

  The villagers began to disperse as Sam and Isonorai stepped into the forest, the towering trees swallowing them whole. The air grew colder immediately, the light dimmer. The world beyond the treeline felt like a different realm entirely, one where time and space seemed to twist and shift.

  They walked in silence for a while, the crunch of frost beneath their boots the only sound. Sam’s thoughts churned with everything they were leaving behind. His family. The village. The fragile sense of normalcy he had clung to since his resurrection.

  “Do you think they’ll be okay?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  Isonorai glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. “Your parents? The village?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re strong,” she said simply. “But they’re scared. They’re worried about you, Sam. About what’s waiting for us out here.”

  He nodded, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “I don’t want them to worry. I want to protect them. But I can’t do that if I don’t understand this power. If I don’t understand myself.”

  Isonorai studied him for a moment, then said, “You’re doing the right thing. Even if it’s terrifying, even if it feels like everything’s falling apart, you’re doing what needs to be done. That’s more than most people can say.”

  Her words were steady, reassuring. But they also carried an edge of vulnerability, a reminder that she was just as afraid as he was.

  As they pressed deeper into the forest, the air grew heavier, the trees more twisted and foreboding. The faint light of the morning sun barely pierced the dense canopy, leaving them in a perpetual twilight. Sam felt the weight of the place pressing down on him, an almost tangible force that made his every step feel labored.

  “You feel it too, don’t you?” Isonorai asked, her voice hushed.

  Sam nodded. “Yeah. It’s like the forest is alive. Watching us.”

  “Lareth’s magic,” she said, her tone grim. “It’s everywhere.”

  They continued in silence, their senses on high alert. The forest seemed to shift around them, the path twisting and turning in ways that defied logic. Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being herded, guided toward something they couldn’t yet see.

  After what felt like hours, they finally reached the clearing. The stone altar loomed before them, its runes glowing faintly in the dim light. And there, waiting as if he had been there all along, was Lareth.

  Sam was thrown violently from the Threshold, his body tumbling across the forest floor. He came to a halt against a tree, groaning in pain as he tried to sit up. The air was cold, the scent of pine and earth grounding him as he realized he was back in the mortal world.

  The stone archway stood before him, its once-glowing runes now dim and lifeless. The forest around him was silent, save for the distant rustling of leaves.

  “Sam!”

  He looked up to see Isonorai running toward him, her face pale with worry. She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering over his injuries.

  “What happened?” she asked, her voice trembling. “You were gone for hours. I thought—”

  Sam shook his head, cutting her off. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Just… give me a moment.”

  Isonorai frowned but nodded, sitting back on her heels as she watched him warily.

  Sam leaned against the tree, his mind racing. The voice’s warning echoed in his thoughts, chilling him more than the cold air around him. He couldn’t tell Isonorai what had happened inside, couldn’t risk the wrath of whatever power commanded that place.

  But the questions remained, gnawing at him. What was the Monarch’s Revival? Why had it chosen him? And what was this mysterious force that seemed to control everything?

  For now, he had no answers—only fear, frustration, and a burning desire to prove himself worthy of the power he carried.

  “You’re not fine,” Isonorai said finally, breaking the silence. “You’re pale, shaking… whatever happened in there, it’s not over, is it?”

  Sam forced a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he lied. “Let’s just get back to the village. There’s nothing more for us here.”

  Isonorai didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press him. She helped him to his feet, her arm steadying him as they began the trek back.

  As they walked, Sam glanced over his shoulder at the Threshold, its towering archway now a silent sentinel. He clenched his fists, determination flickering in his eyes.

  “I’ll come back,” he whispered to himself. “And next time, I’ll be ready.”I