Chapter 16: A House of Coal and Ash

Roots of Desire

Chapter 16: A House of Coal and Ash

The wind stirred the leaves at their feet as Woodward murmured the ancient words, his voice a low, steady hum that vibrated against Iveyna’s skin. The air around them shifted; grew heavy with a presence that prickled at the edges of her senses.

The town, with its weathered stone and flickering lanterns, faded into a blur as the Druidic magic wove an unseen veil around them. Each syllable he spoke felt like a thread pulling them further from sight, and with every step, the weight of the world seemed to grow more distant.

His fingers curled around hers; warm, strong, steady. The feel of his hand in hers anchored her against the chaos roiling inside. Even now, beneath his human-like form, his vines stirred; gentle tendrils brushing against her wrist and twining protectively up her forearm. A silent reassurance. A silent claim.

“You’re trembling,” Woodward said softly, his wooden thumb gently turning her chin towards him. Gazing into her emerald eyes. “I’m fine,” Iveyna lied, though the rapid flutter of her heart betrayed her.

Vesper walked a few paces behind, her steps light and soundless against the earth. She said nothing; quiet and watchful; the magic wrapped her in its hold as well, keeping them veiled. As they crossed the shadowed edge of town, Iveyna clung to the familiar sight of home; a sturdy, two-story cottage tucked at the edge of the village. The worn edges of the wooden door. The soft golden glow spilling from the small kitchen window.

And yet, a strange ache pierced her chest. This place; her home; suddenly felt smaller. Less certain. She squeezed Woodward’s hand a little tighter. “It’s just… they won’t understand any of this.”

“They don’t need to,” he murmured. “Not yet.” His voice; deep and unyielding, sent a warm shiver through her as his vines flexed gently, brushing against her ribs, caressing her curves, and curling low across her waist. Not binding; holding. Protecting.

The house stood foreboding and still, a worn silhouette against the night sky. Iveyna hesitated on the doorstep, heart pounding as Woodward’s magic cloaked them from prying eyes. The forest’s chill clung to her skin, but beneath it, she still felt the phantom touch of his vines curling protectively around her; the memory sending a pulse of warmth low in her belly. A part of her wishing his vines had gone further. Woodward stood at her side, a solid, protective presence. His humanoid form was no less imposing, the faint grain of his wooden skin catching the moonlight, and those eyes burned low and fierce. Behind them, Vesper trailed in silent silently, her dark eyes lowered as the magic veil dispersed around them.

Iveyna lifted a hand, knocking lightly. The sound echoed louder in her ears than it should have. The door swung open.

“Iveyna?”

Her mother’s voice trembled, thick with something that curled uneasily in Iveyna’s gut. In an instant, her mother pulled her into a crushing embrace. “Gods above; we thought; ” She broke off into a choked sob, arms locked around Iveyna as if she could anchor her there forever.

“I’m here,” Iveyna murmured, though the words felt distant. “I’m safe.” Her mother pulled back enough to cup her face, brushing strands of tangled hair behind her ear with shaking fingers. The depth of fear and relief in her mother’s eyes made her chest tighten. Footsteps echoed behind them.

Her father filled the doorway, broad and imposing, face drawn into a deep scowl. His eyes didn’t linger on Iveyna; they locked on Woodward, tracing the strange texture of his skin, the otherness in his stance.

His scowl deepened.

“What is this?” His voice came low and rough, like distant thunder. “What have you brought into my home?” A ripple of tension passed through Woodward, though his expression remained composed. Iveyna stepped forward, shoulders squaring. “I need to explain,” she began, but her father didn’t budge. Her mother, still pale, released a shaky breath. “Come inside. All of you.”

The warmth of the hearth touched Iveyna’s skin as she slid into a seat at the table, Woodward to her right. Her mother moved mechanically, pouring tea with shaking hands while her father settled across from them; his broad shoulders filling the room with unspoken judgment. “What in the Gods’ name is this?” His voice rumbled low and hard. Iveyna swallowed thickly, her throat tight. “Father, I… I can explain.”

The room seemed to still.

Her father’s face darkened, knuckles white where his fists rested against the table. Woodward shifted slightly beside Iveyna, a ripple of tension passing through him as his gaze sharpened on Iveyna’s father.

Her father’s gaze snapped to Woodward, sharp and measuring. His jaw tightened as his eyes swept over the wooden texture of his skin, the living vines still curled around his fingers. “And who is this?” Her father’s tone was low; dangerous.

Iveyna opened her mouth to speak but faltered. Words tangled on her tongue. “He’s my… uh…”

A sudden heat flushed her cheeks, a warmth pooling deep inside as she remembered his vines stripping the iron from her cell; freeing her. “He’s with me,” she finished quickly, voice softer. Woodward’s expression didn’t change, but the vines at her wrist pulsed, tightening just enough to remind her of his presence; his protection. Iveyna swallowed past the heat rising up through to her throat, her body tingling with the memory of his vines wrapped around her as he shattered the cage into fine dust.

“Father, He’s my uh…” The words tangled on her tongue; heat flaring to her cheeks as her mind flashed to him standing over her in the grove, magic thrumming between them.

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“He’s… my; ”

The air in the room grew taut as steel.

Her father’s shoulders shifted, muscles coiling with anger. But something in Woodward’s presence ; some primal, unspoken threat; forced him to swallow whatever words were forming. Iveyna let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her mother sat down heavily at the table, the fight draining from her shoulders. For a moment, no one spoke.

Her mother’s hands trembled as she folded them in her lap. The fire crackled softly, the only sound filling the thick, tense silence that stretched between them. Iveyna kept her head high, but her heart pounded against her ribs. Woodward’s presence beside her was a steady anchor, though the weight of her father’s gaze burned against her skin. Her mother’s fingers twitched, as if wanting to reach for her again; but hesitating. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was soft and brittle.

"What happened to you, Ivy?"

The question hung heavy in the air. Iveyna’s breath caught, the words tangled behind her teeth. She should have expected the question; of course, her mother would want to know; but now that it was here, it threatened to break something fragile inside her. Woodward’s vines shifted against her wrist, curling in a slow, deliberate caress. A reminder. She wasn’t trapped anymore.

“I; ” The first word came out rough. She swallowed hard and tried again. “I was taken.”

Her mother flinched.

“What do you mean… taken?” her father demanded, his voice rough as iron. Iveyna’s throat tightened. “The Steward. The foreman. And Lyric.” She spat the last name, the taste of betrayal still bitter on her tongue. “They worked together. They; ” Her voice wavered. She forced herself to meet her mother’s wide, fearful gaze. “They kidnapped me.

The color drained from her mother’s face. Her father’s knuckles turned white where his fists rested against the table. “I was taken to the Steward’s manor,” she continued, the words sharp and brittle. “Captured and then locked in a cage.” Her mother let out a broken sound; a breathless, horrified gasp.

“They weren’t just keeping me.” Iveyna’s hands trembled in her lap as she pressed on, needing them to understand. “There were others. Women. Locked in cages like animals. And they; ” Her breath hitched. She could still see the woman Vesper had been, curled inside her open cage, too afraid to believe she was free. “They break them. Turn them into… obedient objects for their pleasure.”

Her father pushed to his feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. His face had darkened, eyes blazing with fury; but beneath it was fear. “By the gods,” her mother whispered, her hand rising to her mouth. “That monster; ”

“He’s paying for it,” Iveyna said coldly. “Woodward made sure of that.” Her father’s head snapped toward Woodward, his posture stiff and defensive. "What did you do?" Woodward remained calm; too calm. “The Steward’s greed poisoned the land. He thought he could take without consequence.” His voice was low, steady, with a dangerous undercurrent. “I restored the balance.”

The words were simple, but the meaning behind them hung heavy. “He destroyed the manor,” Iveyna said, her voice softer but no less fierce. “Shattered it to ash and dust. And the Steward; ” A flicker of satisfaction warmed her chest despite the tension rising around them. “He’s feeding the seed to restore what he destroyed. The land will take its due from him.”

Her father’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “And what do you think happens next?” His voice was a growl of barely-contained rage. “You think the kingdom will just… let this go? That no one will notice the Steward is gone?”

Iveyna stiffened. “He deserved it.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “Men like him; they don’t answer to themselves. Someone put him here. Someone powerful.” Iveyna’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. She knew he was right. The Steward wasn’t the true power; he was just a tool. Her mother’s voice trembled. “They’ll come looking, Ivy.”

“I know.” Iveyna lifted her chin, trying to push back the cold dread curling inside her. “But Woodward couldn’t let it go. Not when those women; ” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “Not when it could have been me. He had to stopped.” Her father’s jaw clenched tight enough to crack stone. “And what happens when they come for you next?”

“They won’t touch her,” Woodward said, his voice like a low rumble of distant thunder. Her father turned his gaze on him fully, the weight of his distrust simmering in the air. “You think you can protect her from the crown? From whatever hell you’ve unleashed?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation; no arrogance in Woodward’s ancient tone. Just cold, unyielding certainty. The vines at Iveyna’s wrist pulsed, as if echoing his resolve. Little thorns unconsciously emerging from his vines.

Her father shook his head, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal. “You’ve put this family in danger,” he growled. “Whatever power you think you have; ” His glare shifted back to Woodward. “You don’t know what you’ve started.” A tremor of fear slipped down her spine. Maybe he was right. But she couldn’t regret it. She wouldn’t.

“If Woodward hadn’t stopped him, who would?” Her voice trembled but held firm. “That monster was destroying lives; destroying women; and no one else cared.” She forced herself to her feet, the chair scraping back behind her. “He did what was right.”

Her father stared at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. But he didn’t speak. Her mother’s voice broke the silence, fragile but certain. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she whispered. But then her face creased with worry. “But, gods, Ivy… what comes next?”

Iveyna didn’t have an answer.

The room hung heavy with silence, thick with words unspoken. Iveyna could still feel the weight of her father’s glare burning into her back. Her mother sat pale and trembling, her hands knotted tightly in her lap as though she feared what might come crashing through their door next.

Woodward stood with the same quiet power he always carried; rooted, immovable; rising up he took a step closer to Iveyna where she sat. His movements were smooth, deliberate, as if nothing in this house could shake him. The faint rustle of his vines softened as they slowly withdrew from her wrist, retreating into the bark-like ridges of his wooden skin.

His hand came to her face. Warm and rough, his thumb swept across her cheekbone in a lingering caress. Iveyna leaned into his touch without thinking, craving the comfort of his presence even as the air around them burned with tension.

“I’ll return to my Grove for the night,” he said quietly.

“No.” The word slipped out before she could stop it; sharper than she intended. She caught his wrist before he could pull away, her fingers curling tight around his rough skin. “Stay.”

Woodward’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted; an almost imperceptible softening. Still, he hesitated. Iveyna’s blood simmered beneath her skin as she tore her gaze from his to face her father. She met his glare head-on, daring him to object. “I’ll be safer here with Woody, don’t you agree, Father?” The bite in her tone was unmistakable.

Her father’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t answer. For all his bluster and anger, even he couldn’t deny the truth of her words.

The silence stretched, taut as a wire. His gaze stayed on Iveyna, heavy with meaning she couldn’t quite unravel. For a breathless moment, the world felt as though it hinged on his decision. Then his fingers slid from her cheek, the absence of his touch making her skin ache. “If that is your wish,” he murmured.

“It is,” she said, her voice full of warmth and desire. A hint of red flushing her cheeks. Vesper, silent and swift, turned and glided from the room without waiting for further instruction. The air she left behind felt colder somehow.

Iveyna didn’t let go of Woodward’s hand. Not yet.

Her father might fear him. The kingdom might come for them. But tonight; tonight, he was staying with her. And no one was going to take him away.