The morning sun barely kissed the horizon when Ivy stepped into the village square. The familiar warmth of the dawn light no longer comforted her. It felt distant, cold—like everything around her was slowly shifting into something foreign. As she walked past the homes and market stalls, she could feel the eyes of the villagers on her, heavy with suspicion, sharp as blades. They didn't speak openly, but their stares were enough. Whispers had spread like wildfire.
"Ivy's been spending too much time in the forest," they murmured. "That's not her. She's changed."
Her hands trembled at her sides, but she did her best to mask it. She held her head high, trying to ignore the tension, the weight of the stares. Each footfall felt as though it carried her further from the woman she used to be. She had always been a part of this village, a healer, a friend. Now? Now, she was an outcast.
When the villagers' whispers reached her ears, she could feel it in her chest—an ache of betrayal. But it wasn't just their words that stung. It was the hollow space inside her, the absence of warmth she used to feel from the people who had always trusted her.
Ivy kept walking, forcing her pace steady, until a familiar face broke through the crowd.
"Eamon," she said softly, her voice a little too sharp.
The elderly man, once a confidant and protector, now looked at her as if she were a stranger. His hands, once so steady and gentle when they handed her herbs or milk, now clenched into fists at his sides. "Ivy," he began, his voice strained, "we need to talk. It's not right. What you've been doing—what you've been involved in."
Ivy's chest tightened. She had expected this. She had known this day would come, when the village would turn against her. But hearing it from Eamon… it hurt more than she imagined. She hadn't been prepared for his coldness. Not from him.
"I've done nothing wrong," she said, though the words felt hollow in her throat.
Eamon stepped forward, his usually kind face now twisted with something darker. "You've been spending all your time with him," he spat, the name hanging in the air like a curse. "That thing in the woods. Thorne." He didn't need to say more—the accusation was clear.
"I—" Ivy's voice faltered as she tried to find the right words, to defend him, to explain. But how could she? How could she make them understand what they had, what Thorne had shown her, when all they saw was the demon in the trees?
Before she could speak, Eamon shook his head. "You've changed, Ivy. You've always been a part of us. But not anymore. You've let him pull you away. This isn't you."
Ivy clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "It is me," she said softly, but the words held more pain than she intended.
The group that had gathered behind Eamon murmured, their voices rising in a cacophony of whispers. They watched her with narrowed eyes, suspicion and fear palpable in the air.
"You don't belong with us anymore," Eamon said quietly. "The villagers don't trust you. You've brought this curse on us."
"I haven't done anything—" Ivy began, but the words died in her throat.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Elsa, her childhood friend, walking toward them. Elsa's face was tense, her lips pressed tightly together as though she was struggling with something inside her. When she reached Ivy, she placed a gentle hand on her arm, but Ivy could feel the reluctance in her touch.
"Ivy," Elsa said softly, "you need to stop. You don't know what's happening. People are vanishing. They're scared, and they're right to be."
Ivy shook her head vehemently. "I didn't do this. I've been helping. I've been—"
"You've been with him, Ivy." Elsa's voice cracked. "And I can't pretend anymore. I've seen what he's capable of. And I've seen what he's doing to you. You've changed. And not for the better."
Her words stung more than Ivy was ready for. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Elsa had always been her rock, the one person who had never judged her. But now? Now, it felt like the last of her safety net was being torn away.
"I'm not the one who's changed," Ivy said, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. "I'm still the same. It's you all who don't understand."
The crowd had grown restless. More villagers had gathered, murmuring among themselves. Some of them cast glances in Ivy's direction, their eyes filled with distrust. They were starting to believe what Eamon had said. Ivy's heart began to pound in her chest, and the familiar warmth she'd always felt walking through the village felt like it was suffocating her now.
"Ivy, you need to leave the forest," Eamon demanded. "And leave that creature behind. For your own good."
Ivy flinched, but she didn't back down. Her mind flashed to Thorne, to his presence in the woods, to the way he had protected her, to the way he had loved her, in his own twisted, possessive way. She could feel his eyes on her now, even though he wasn't physically there. It was as if the trees themselves were watching her, waiting for her to make the decision.
"I won't," she said, her voice shaking but steady. "I won't leave him."
"You're a fool," Eamon hissed, his voice trembling with fury. "You'll bring nothing but ruin."
Before Ivy could respond, a low growl echoed from somewhere deep in the trees, vibrating through the ground beneath her feet. The villagers went silent. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt Thorne's presence, even though she couldn't see him. He was watching, and she knew—he wasn't pleased.
The crowd took a cautious step back, fear replacing their anger as the sound of the growl lingered in the air. Ivy's breath caught in her throat. She knew that sound, that growl. Thorne was near. And if he wanted to, the villagers wouldn't stand a chance.
But Ivy didn't want that. She didn't want him to hurt them, even though she knew he would. She didn't want her world to be reduced to this.
"Leave them alone, Thorne," Ivy whispered, just loud enough for the air to hear.
The tension thickened. She could feel it—he was there, watching. And in that moment, she understood the depth of his protection. The villagers had no idea what they were dealing with.