Chapter 17 - The Unraveling
The dream began with the feeling of someone breathing beside her. A slow exhale that told her she wasn’t alone.
Light eased into place around her, and she found herself standing on open moorland. She didn’t recognize it, yet it felt familiar in a way that settled deep in her chest. Mist moved low across the ground. Heather brushed her ankles. The wind felt intentional somehow, like it was moving because it wanted to, not because it had been pushed.
Lucy turned slowly, taking in the wide sky and the quiet stretch of land. There was no fear in her. Only a calm she couldn’t explain, as if the dream had been waiting for her.
Something warm trembled under her feet, almost like the ground acknowledging her. She took a step. Then another. Ahead, a large stone rose from the earth. It didn’t look carved. More like it had grown there.
Beyond it was an opening in the land. More like the earth letting her see something hidden.
That was when she felt a presence behind her.
Lucy turned.
Elowen stood at the edge of the mist. She wasn’t solid, but she wasn’t distant either. Her form held enough light to make her recognizable, and her eyes carried a depth that felt gentle and steady.
Lucy’s breath softened. “You.”
Elowen’s voice sounded like it belonged in the air around them. “Child of my child’s child. You are walking a path that has been waiting for you.”
Lucy swallowed. “Is this a dream?”
“A dream is only a doorway,” Elowen said. “You are standing at the beginning of something real.”
She motioned toward the hollow in the stone. Lucy followed her gaze.
Inside the chamber, on a Rowan-wood pedestal, rested a small leather book. The Chronicle.
Elowen touched Lucy’s shoulder. The warmth of it felt real. Solid.
“This is what you inherit,” she said. “Understanding. And the chance to mend what was broken.”
Lucy felt a familiar hum under her ribs. A pull, quiet but steady. She noticed a circular stone at the chamber entrance, carved with runes. It gave off a faint light, almost like it was responding to her.
“What am I supposed to do?” Lucy asked.
Elowen looked at her with soft certainty. “Wake.”
And Lucy did.
Her eyes opened at once. No confusion. Just awareness. She sat up, steady and alert, the dream still clear in her mind. Sam blinked at her from the foot of the bed, chirped once, and trotted toward the door as if he expected her to follow.
She did.
Her feet hit the warm floorboards, and she felt the same quiet hum from the dream moving with her.
In the west corridor, Timothy was already waiting.
Morning light fell across him. He turned as she approached, and the expression on his face told her he already knew.
“You saw her,” he said gently.
Lucy nodded. “Elowen. She showed me the chamber. And a stone. It glowed when I looked at it.”
Timothy’s expression held pride that felt old and kind. “Then the time has come.”
“Timothy… what is the Chronicle?”
He drew a breath that seemed to gather years with it. “It is Elowen’s last record. Her warning. Her hope. It was meant for the heir who could understand both.”
“I need to open it,” Lucy said.
“Yes,” Timothy replied. “But you will need the key.”
Lucy frowned. “The stone in the dream? It wasn’t just symbolic?”
“No,” he said softly. “It was memory.”
He led her to a small sitting room she had barely noticed the day before. On a table by the window sat a plain oak box.
Lucy felt her pulse quicken. “This has been here the whole time?”
“Your whole life,” Timothy said. “Waiting.”
She opened the lid.
The circular stone from her dream lay inside. The runes glowed faintly, syncing with her heartbeat.
Her breath caught as she reached toward it. The glow brightened when her fingers brushed the surface.
“Timothy… where did this come from?”
He spoke quietly. “Elowen had it carved by Aelwyn hands. It was made to respond only to the heir who would bring balance. Not just blood. Not just strength. Balance.”
He hesitated, then continued.
“When the chamber was sealed, Elowen gave the key to me. I carried it until Aelara passed. After that, I hid it beneath her headstone so no corrupted hand could take it. It slept there for a thousand years.”
Lucy stared at him. “You carried this for that long?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Because of me?”
“Because the heir would come,” he corrected gently. “And now you have.”
Lucy looked down at the stone. It pulsed once, warm against her palm.
“Timothy… what are you?” she asked.
He held her gaze with quiet honesty. “I am a Guardian. My purpose is to keep your line safe and to protect the Chronicle until the one meant to open it arrives.”
Lucy’s chest tightened. “And your… time? Is it ending?”
“Not ending,” he said. “Changing. A Guardian’s mantle shifts when the heir rises. It is how it has always been.”
He stepped closer, gentle but steady. “Lucy, the Chronicle was never meant to be opened alone. When the time comes, the mantle will seek a new bearer. It cannot be forced. It moves with consent. Yours, and his.”
Lucy’s breath caught. “Jason.”
Timothy didn’t confirm it. He didn’t have to.
She looked at the key again, then back to Timothy. “And Elowen… she trusted you with all of this?”
“She did,” he said softly. “It was the last thing she asked of me.”
Lucy felt a quiet, humbling weight settle over her, not heavy, just real.
“What happens now?” she asked.
Timothy stepped aside, allowing her space to choose her next step.
“Now,” he said, “you prepare to open the chamber.”
“I need Jason,” Lucy said, the words rising before she could second-guess them.
Timothy’s eyes softened. “Of course.”
They found Jason near the courtyard, adjusting the strap of a small satchel. The moment he saw her face, he straightened and stepped toward her.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing bad,” Lucy said, “but I need you with me. Both of you.”
Jason didn’t hesitate. “Always.”
Timothy gave one steady nod. “Then gather close. The door is ready.”
They walked together into the west corridor. It was quiet in a way that felt deliberate. To Lucy, it was just a stretch of old oak paneling, the kind she had passed dozens of times without noticing anything unusual.
“This is where the chamber lies,” Timothy said. “Only the heir can reveal it.”
Lucy looked at the wall. “There’s nothing here.”
“That is why it works,” he said. “Hold the key near it. No force. Just presence.”
Lucy stepped forward. The stone warmed in her hand, the sigils brightening in a slow, steady rhythm. The air felt different, almost like the moment before a song resolves.
She raised the key.
The panel of oak shivered lightly, not as if the house was settling, but as if it recognized her. A faint shimmer moved across the wood, and the grain blurred in a quiet spiral. Jason drew a sharp breath behind her.
“The wall is moving,” he said.
“It is revealing,” Timothy replied.
The wood thinned like a veil lifting. Beneath it lay smooth, pale stone marked with runes. They glowed with the same pulse as the key. No dramatic flash, just a quiet shift, like something remembering a shape it once held.
A seam formed down the center. Cool air drifted out, carrying a faint scent of soil and roots.
Jason blinked. “This is not normal.”
“Nothing about the Aelwyn was ever ordinary,” Timothy said.
The stone finished unfolding into a narrow arch.
A staircase led downward, its steps worn smooth. Lucy felt the hum in her chest deepen. Jason stayed close. Timothy steadied himself with the railing but moved with purpose.
As they descended, the walls gave off a soft light, the kind that felt natural, not magical for display. The chamber at the bottom was circular. Quiet. Old in a way that felt steady rather than ominous.
Stone columns ringed the space. Moss grew in thin patches along the floor. The air smelled clean, like a deep forest.
And at the center sat the Chronicle.
A simple leather book rested on a pedestal of Rowan wood. No carvings. No ornaments. Just a book waiting to be picked up.
Jason exhaled. “That’s it? That’s the thing everyone’s been after?”
Timothy’s voice thinned with emotion. “Yes. It has waited longer than any of us.”
Lucy walked forward. Each step felt like the ground shifting into place beneath her. She reached the pedestal and touched the leather cover.
Warmth spread through the room, gentle and steady. Dust lifted in the glow. The stone underfoot gave a small vibration, not threatening, just alive.
Timothy let out a quiet sound, almost like a gasp, the kind that comes from relief after years of weight. Jason braced a hand on a stone column, jaw tightening as though something had clicked into focus inside him.
Lucy opened the Chronicle.
The first pages held neat handwriting. Stories of Uther as a young man. His early years. His first meeting with a healer whose name the world had forgotten.
Lucy read quickly, drawn in by the honest, human details.
The hum under her ribs grew stronger.
Then the ink shifted. The letters curled into new shapes. Aelwyn script replaced the handwritten lines, glowing faintly as if waking after a long rest.
Lucy took a small step back, startled.
Timothy whispered, “She sees. Finally, she sees.”
Jason moved closer, protective but steady, even though he could not see the magic itself.
Lucy reached out and touched the glowing marks. They moved under her fingers like water reacting to a ripple.
A message formed inside her. Not a voice. A knowing.
My child of the future. The land has waited. Do not fear its call. You are the balance. You are the healing. You come from love, not conquest. Walk forward.
Warmth settled through her shoulders and down into her palms. It anchored her rather than overwhelmed her.
When she looked up, Timothy was kneeling. Not from weakness, but from reverence. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
Jason slowly knelt beside him. Not because of magic, but because of her. Because he understood she was stepping into something that mattered.
Lucy held the Chronicle to her chest. “We’re in this together,” she said.
Timothy bowed his head. “As it was meant to be.”
Jason nodded. “Tell us what comes next.”
Lucy drew a slow breath and looked at the pages again. The hum stayed steady. The chamber felt alive but calm.
“Everything,” she said.