But Eliam had been brutal too. Had executed without mercy, had ruled with cruelty that made even his own lords fear him. The difference was where that cruelty pointed. Every harsh judgment had protected the forest's balance, and each execution had been for crimes against the land itself. Every act of violence had served something larger than his own hunger for power.
The forest remembered. Remembered that Eliam's darkness had always bent toward preservation, even when it cost him, even when gentler rulers might have prospered more. Malus had sought to break the ancient seals, to release power that would consume everything. Eliam had fought to maintain what existed, to protect what could not be replaced, no matter how much blood it required.
The forest remembered that too.
Around the clearing, the trees began to shift. Slowly at first. Branches that had leaned toward Malus straightened. Roots that had risen to defend him sank back into the earth. The wind that had howled at his command fell still.
"What?" Malus spun, sensing the change. “No. How.” His eyes scanned the clearing wildly before landing on Briar. "You. What are you doing?"
She couldn't have answered if she wanted to. Her lips wouldn't move. Her throat wouldn't work. But she held the forest's attention, and kept pushing the memories forward. Eliam protecting a grove of ancient oaks from a fae who had diverted a stream. Eliam punishing a sprite for poisoning the waters with iron in an act of retaliation.
The forest chose.
She felt the shift, magic prickled across her skin, slow at first then faster and with purpose. It flooded into Eliam, not the hesitant trickle he'd been getting before, but a massive surge that made the air itself crackle. The roots pinning him withered instantly and the decay aging his skin reversed, flesh returning to health in seconds. He rose to his feet, and this time when he called the thorns, they came eagerly.
Vines erupted all around Malus. Not weak and easily withered, but thick as a man's thigh and covered in thorns the length of daggers. They moved with clear purpose, driving Malus backward, forcing him into purely defensive movement.
"No!" Malus sent decay magic in all directions, but the forest absorbed it harmlessly. The earth itself seemed to reject his power now. "This is wrong! I am the rightful king!"
"The forest disagrees," Eliam said. His voice had returned to those doubled harmonics, but stronger now, backed by the full weight of the land itself.
Malus's eyes snapped back to Briar and she saw the calculation in his expression as he weighed his options.
Then he moved.
Not toward Eliam. Towardher.
Autumn decay gathered in his hands as he crossed the distance between them in three long strides. Briar tried to move, tried to roll away, but her body refused every command. Her arms wouldn't support her weight. Her legs wouldn't respond. She could only watch as he bore down on her, death pooling around his fingers.
All around them thorned vines erupted from every surface, desperate and wild, but they wouldn't reach in time. Malus was too close, moving too fast, his hand already reaching for her throat.
Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and yanked her backward just as Malus's hand would have closed around her neck.
Thaine.
"Got you," he gasped, his own breathing labored as he dragged her across the stone, pulling her behind one of the tilted standing stones. "Stay down."
Malus spun toward them, fury twisting his features. Briar could see her death in his eyes, could see that he would kill Thaine too just for interfering.
He moved towards them, but the forest moved faster.
Vines exploded from the seal directly beneath Malus. They didn't try to bind him or slow him. Instead their thorns pierced straight through his legs, his torso, before lifting him clean off the ground.
Malus screamed, his blood running down the vines in dark rivulets, dripping onto the carved stones. He clawed at the thorns impaling him, but more vines wrapped around his wrists, his arms, pulling them away from his body and holding them spread.
Eliam was there in the next breath, grabbing Malus by the throat, his fingers digging deep, nails drawing blood.
"You don't touch her," Eliam said, his voice resonating in a way that made the air itself vibrate. "You don't even look at her."
"The forest chose you because of her," Malus gasped, blood bubbling at his lips. The roots had punctured something vital. He was dying, and they both knew it. "She's your weakness, brother. Your fatal flaw."
"No." Eliam's grip tightened. "She's my strength."
More vines rose from the seal, wrapping around Malus's chest, replacing Eliam’s hand at his neck. These were different from the roots impaling him. Thinner but covered in dozens of tiny razor sharp thorns that bit deep with each breath their victim tried to take. They coiled around his throat slowly, almost gently, but the thorns sank deeper with each loop.
Malus tried to speak, but the vines tightened. His eyes bulged. His face darkened from lack of air. He pulled desperately at the restraints, decay magic flickering weakly around his hands, but the forest absorbed it as quickly as he could produce it.
Briar watched through vision that kept narrowing and expanding. Part of her knew she should look away, that she should spare herself this final image, but she couldn't tear her eyes from Malus's face as the life drained from it.
