BONUS CHAPTER - CHASING BUTTERFLIES

Eliza had seen many terrible things in her time with the guild. She had watched men and women break under torture, had seen recruits die in training, had slit throats in the dark and felt the warmth of life fade beneath her hands. But nothing had shaken her like Thorne’s final trial. 

The memory still lingered, sharp and vivid, like an old wound that refused to close. She had always known he was dangerous—everyone had. He was faster, sharper, deadlier than any of them. But she had never feared him. 

Until that night. 

The way he had dismantled that girl… A girl who had once trained alongside him, who had once been a friend. It wasn’t just the brutality of the kill. It was how deliberate he had been, how he had toyed with her, dragging out her suffering until he was satisfied. She had seen cruelty before, but never like that. Never from him. 

She had never once been afraid of him before, but for the first time, she had wondered if maybe she should be. 

The recruits had seen it too. Some whispered in awe, others in terror. The few who still harbored dreams of surpassing him, of taking his place as Uncle’s favored assassin, had abandoned those dreams that night. Thorne had made sure of it. 

And then he had walked away. He had left the guild. 

That betrayal stung almost as much as what she had witnessed. How could he leave? How could he turn his back on the organization that had saved them, had picked them off the streets and forged them into something more? She understood that the early years had been hell, that the training had been ruthless—but hadn’t it all been worth it? They had survived, had risen above the filth and the fear of the streets. The guild had given them purpose. Strength. 

Thorne had thrown it all away. 

The envy clawed at her chest, unbidden and ugly. Maybe he didn’t need the guild. He had Uncle. He had all those noble connections. Maybe he had outgrown them, outgrown her. 

But she wasn’t about to let him disappear just yet. 

The forest was dense, the towering elven trees stretching high into the misty morning. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and leaves, the occasional distant howl of a beast breaking the silence. Eliza crouched low on a thick branch, her eyes locked on the figure below. 

Thorne moved through the forest like a phantom, his steps measured, his body relaxed despite the dangers lurking around him. She had been tracking him for a while now, watching as he fought beast after beast without hesitation, without slowing. She had seen him take down a massive direwolf with terrifying efficiency, his daggers flashing in the dim light of the forest, carving through fur and flesh as if it were nothing. 

She should have known he’d sense her eventually. 

“You might as well come down.” 

Eliza stiffened. Thorne hadn’t even turned around, hadn’t even stopped moving. But his voice carried through the trees, calm and amused. 

She let out a quiet sigh and dropped from the branch, landing lightly on the forest floor. “Took you long enough.” 

Thorne finally turned, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I knew you were there an hour ago.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “Then why wait?” 

He shrugged, flicking blood off one of his daggers before slipping it back into its sheath. “Didn’t feel like talking yet.” 

Eliza folded her arms. “And now you do?” 

Thorne just tilted his head, as if considering. “Not really.” 

She clenched her jaw, but she didn’t let her irritation show. Instead, she took a step closer, lowering her voice. “How are you?” 

He raised a brow. “Fine.” 

“That’s it?” 

He gave her that look, the one that said he wasn’t going to make this easy. “What do you want me to say, Eliza?” 

She held his gaze, searching for something beneath that infuriating nonchalance. There was nothing. Or maybe… maybe he was hiding it too well. “You know what? Forget it.” 

A rustling in the underbrush snapped both their attention away from the conversation. Eliza felt it before she saw them—a swarm of beasts, their glowing eyes catching the moonlight as they rushed toward them. 

Thorne exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Guess we’re doing this.” 

Eliza pulled her daggers free, her lips curving into a grin despite herself. “Looks like it.” 

The creatures lunged. 

They were fanghounds, lean, twisted things with elongated jaws and black, bristling fur. Their glowing red eyes flickered with hunger as they charged, their clawed limbs propelling them across the forest floor at terrifying speed. 

Eliza was already moving. A fanghound leapt toward her, its fangs bared—she twisted mid-step, activating Silent Step, slipping to the side just as its teeth snapped at empty air. Her dagger flashed, slicing a deep Venom Strike into its exposed flank. The beast howled, its body seizing as the toxin seeped into its bloodstream. 

Thorne, meanwhile, moved with the same brutal precision she had seen during his trial. He weaved between the hounds with effortless grace, striking with his daggers moving in perfect tandem as he eviscerated one beast and spun into another. 

Eliza didn’t have time to admire his work. Another hound lunged. She activated Wall Vaulting, using the trunk of a massive tree to propel herself above the incoming creature, landing lightly behind it. Her dagger flashed—Quickdraw Throw sent a knife burying into the back of its skull. 

A sudden yelp had her turning. Marla. 

No—Marla wasn’t here. She shook the thought off and found Thorne grappling with a particularly massive fanghound. He moved to stab it, but another latched onto his arm, dragging him down. 

Eliza’s breath hitched. 

For a moment, she saw him as he had been that night in the trial. But Thorne wasn’t losing. 

A flick of his wrist and the beast’s grip loosened. His dagger flared with white light and seemed to carve the creature with a sizzling sound and the repugnant smell of charred hair and meat filled the forest. The fanghound gurgled as he severed its throat and died.  

He didn’t even flinch. 

Eliza felt something stir in her chest—was it fear? No. Annoyance. 

She wasn’t about to be outdone. 

Another beast charged. This time, she didn’t dodge. 

Instead, she let the aether surge within her. She gripped her dagger tight, focusing on the skill that had taken everything in her to unlock. Phantom Reaping. 

Her blade vanished mid-strike. 

The fanghound didn’t react, didn’t realize the danger—until its body was carved open by wounds it never saw coming. 

Two more beasts fell to the same unseen strike. Thorne stepped back, eyeing her curiously. “That’s new.” 

Eliza exhaled, feeling the aether drain. She forced a smirk, wiping blood from her cheek. “You’re not the only one who picks up new tricks.” 

He didn’t push—but she knew he would, eventually. 

Eliza followed Thorne through the underbrush, her steps light but her mind heavy. The scent of damp earth and moss clung to the cool night air, and the occasional call of distant beasts echoed through the forest. He moved ahead of her with that same effortless ease, barely making a sound, as if the dangers around them were nothing but an afterthought. 

She had been watching him all night—longer than that, really—and yet, she felt as though she were looking at a stranger. 

Since his last trial, since that night, something about Thorne had changed. Or maybe it had always been there, and she had just refused to see it. 

She had known him for years, had fought beside him, laughed with him, survived with him. She had seen him kill before, had seen him at his most brutal, his most precise. But that night… 

That night, she had seen something else. And yet, even now, watching him walk ahead of her as if the past meant nothing, he was still Thorne. He still had that same lazy smirk, the same ridiculous confidence, the same sharp gaze that could see through any lie. So why did she feel like they were standing on opposite sides of a chasm? 

“Eliza,” his voice broke the silence, casual as ever. “That skill of yours...” 

Her fingers twitched at the mention of it, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. “Yeah.” 

“Impressive.” He didn’t look back, but she could hear the interest in his tone. “That’s no ordinary skill. Must’ve been tough to unlock, it uses aether.” 

Eliza’s jaw tightened. He was prying. 

She had expected this. Thorne was too observant to ignore something like that. And yet, she had hoped he wouldn’t ask. 

Her mind flashed back to the book hidden inside her cloak, the book she had spent hours poring over, the book that had opened a door to skills she never would have known existed. 

She should tell him about it. Any other time, she might have. But something held her back. 

Maybe it was the way he had changed, the way he had left the guild like it had meant nothing. Like she had meant nothing. 

Maybe it was that envy, the ugly part of her that whispered that he didn’t need it—that he already had everything. Uncle. The nobles. The power that came so easily to him. Maybe, for once, she wanted something for herself. 

Or maybe she just didn’t want to admit that she needed the book in the first place. 

So she shrugged, feigning indifference. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Thorne chuckled. “I would, actually.” 

She gave him a smirk, but didn’t elaborate. He didn’t push, and that unsettled her more than if he had. 

Instead, he just stepped over a fallen log.  

Trying to redirect the conversation, she asked. “Will you tell me where we are going?”,  

Thorne only grinned. “Patience, Eliza.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I swear, if this is some stupid game—” 

He laughed and picked up the pace. “Almost there.” 

Eliza sighed, quickening her own steps to keep up. “If this ends up being something stupid, I’m stabbing you.” 

Thorne only laughed. “You’ll see.” 

They moved deeper into the forest, the canopy thick overhead, allowing only fragments of sunlight to filter through. The dense vegetation pressed in around them, the sounds of creatures scurrying through the underbrush making Eliza instinctively check her surroundings. 

Then, the sound of metal softly clinking reached her ears. 

She frowned, tilting her head. “What is that?” 

Thorne didn’t answer. He only adjusted his coat, the sound growing more distinct as he moved. The faintest jingle of glass and metal together. Vials? No, something else. 

Curiosity gnawed at her, but before she could press, Thorne abruptly stopped. His expression shifted, a flicker of something—excitement?—crossing his features. Then, without warning, he darted forward. 

Eliza tensed, her body reacting instinctively to the sudden movement. She stepped forward cautiously, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger as she watched him disappear past a thick wall of bushes. 

She could hear his footsteps crunching against the forest floor, then a sharp “Aha!” of triumph. 

Frowning, she moved forward, parting the foliage carefully. “What the hell are you—” 

She stopped short. 

Thorne was jumping, hands reaching out, a glass jar in his grasp. And inside— 

A butterfly. 

Not just any butterfly, but a shimmering blue creature with translucent wings that left a trail of silvery-white dust in the air. 

Eliza blinked, her mind struggling to process the scene. She tore her gaze from the butterfly-filled jar to Thorne, who was now chasing another one, trying to catch it midair like an overeager child. 

Her mouth parted. “You’re kidding.” 

Thorne ignored her, his focus completely on the delicate creatures as he filled a second jar. He lifted them both, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Got them.” 

Eliza still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t quite reconciled what she was seeing. “You dragged me through the woods… for butterflies?” 

He turned to her, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Not just any butterflies.” He held up the jar, tilting it so the faint light caught the shimmering dust they left behind. “Aetherwings.” 

Eliza exhaled through her nose, rubbing her temples. “Thorne, do you have any idea how ridiculous you look right now?” 

He grinned. “I prefer ‘victorious.’” 

She let out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. “Why the hell do you need them?” 

For the first time, he hesitated. His fingers curled slightly around the jars, his eyes flickering away. “No reason.” 

Her brows furrowed. “Thorne.” 

“I said no reason.” 

Her mind turned, piecing together possibilities. “You’re not giving them to Jonah, are you?” 

His frown deepened. “Why would I give them to Jonah?” 

“For ingredients, obviously. They’d probably be useful for Ben.” 

Thorne’s eyes flickered to the butterflies, as if considering it for the first time. Then, just as quickly, he shook his head. “Not for them.” 

Eliza narrowed her eyes. If not them… 

Her breath hitched as realization dawned. Not her. 

Her gaze snapped back to him, a wicked smirk tugging at her lips. “Not her?” 

A faint flush crept up his neck. “It’s for Selene, okay?” His voice was firm, as if daring her to challenge him. 

Eliza raised her hands in surrender, but the smirk never left her face. “I didn’t say anything.” 

Thorne narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously before muttering, “I thought you liked her.” 

Eliza shrugged. “She’s good.” And, surprisingly, she meant it. 

Eliza had only met Selene once, back at Gilly’s Tavern, but even that short encounter had left an impression. Bright, excitable, and completely out of place in their world. The kind of person who smiled easily, who saw the good in people, who hadn’t been beaten down by the weight of survival. 

At first, Eliza had dismissed her as naïve—a sheltered noble playing at adventure. But the more she had watched, the more she realized that wasn’t quite it. Selene wasn’t naive. She just refused to let the world make her cruel. 

And maybe, just maybe, that was what Thorne saw in her. 

It made sense, in a way. He had spent years surrounded by killers, liars, and people who only looked out for themselves. Maybe Selene was a reminder that not everything had to be like that. 

Still, it was strange to think of Thorne—her Thorne—chasing after a girl like that. 

And even stranger to realize… she didn’t hate the idea. 

Thorne exhaled softly, as if her opinion actually mattered. 

She rolled her eyes, gesturing toward the path. “Let’s go give your girlfriend her gift before another beast decides to rip your pretty face off.” 

They made their way back through the forest, the tension from earlier slipping into something lighter, something easier. Thorne had secured the jars inside his coat, the faint clinking sound accompanying his movements. Every so often, he would glance at them, his lips twitching in satisfaction. Eliza shook her head at him but said nothing. 

It was strange. She should feel irritated, but she didn’t. It was too rare these days to see him like this—genuinely pleased about something so small, so pointless. He had always been sharp, calculating, but there had been a time when she could still make him laugh, when their days weren’t spent spilling blood for the guild. 

Maybe she missed that. 

As they walked, Thorne talked nonstop, filling the silence with stories, some absurd, some outright ridiculous. He recounted a run-in with an overeager merchant who had mistaken him for a noble’s bastard son and tried to convince him to invest in a failing spice business. Another tale had him barely escaping an irate woman in the markets after he accidentally stole the wrong pouch—one filled with love letters rather than coin. 

Eliza found herself chuckling despite herself, shaking her head at his antics. He had a way of making even the most mundane things sound entertaining, and for a brief moment, she felt the chasm closing between them. 

Still, as much as she enjoyed watching him act like a giddy idiot, her instincts remained sharp. The forest wasn’t entirely safe, and Thorne knew it. He talked, he laughed, but she didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched when a twig snapped in the distance, or how his posture subtly shifted at the rustling of a nearby bush. Relaxed, but never unguarded. 

By the time they emerged from the trees, the sky had shifted into the pale hues of morning, the golden light spilling over the city in the distance. The scent of salt and smoke replaced the damp earth, and the distant chatter of merchants and dockworkers reached them, the city already alive with activity. They slipped through the outskirts, avoiding the main roads where the city guards patrolled.  

Old habits. 

At some point, Thorne slowed, eyeing the food stalls near the fish market. Without a word, he veered off, returning moments later with two skewers of fried fish. He handed one to her without looking, already taking a bite of his own. 

Eliza raised a brow but took it, chewing thoughtfully. “You bribing me for something?” 

Thorne smirked. “Do I need a reason?” 

She snorted. “Yes.” 

He shrugged, and they ate in silence, weaving through the narrow alleys as they made their way toward the noble quarter. Eliza noticed him slipping a coin to a wandering orphan as they passed. She didn’t comment, but she hid her smile behind another bite of fish. 

Eventually, they reached the sprawling mansions of the noble district, the wealth of the city on full display. Even in the morning light, the streets were well-kept, the roads swept clean, the air perfumed with fresh flowers rather than the grime of the lower districts. 

Thorne stopped in front of a large, imposing estate at the heart of the quarter. He turned to her, grinning. “This is the place.” 

Eliza crossed her arms. “And how exactly are you planning to get in?” 

He gave her that secretive, infuriating smile. “I have my ways.” 

She narrowed her eyes, already scanning the walls, mapping potential entry points in her head. The security was tight—high walls, patrolling guards, enchanted lanterns that would probably light up at the first sign of intrusion. 

But Thorne didn’t seem concerned. 

He turned to leave but hesitated, reaching inside his coat. He pulled out one of the jars and held it out to her. 

Inside, the most beautiful butterfly she had ever seen flapped its glowing wings, leaving a faint, shimmering trail in the air. 

Eliza blinked, looking up at him. “What—?” 

“Thanks,” he said simply. Then, after a pause, “For worrying.” 

And then, before she could even think of a response, he was gone. 

Eliza stared at the jar in her hands, her mind racing. 

That idiot. 

That absolute idiot. 

A slow smile stretched across her lips. 

And then it hit her. 

The clinking she had heard earlier. The way he hadn’t seemed surprised to see her. The way he had spoken to her so casually, so knowingly. 

Her smile widened as realization settled in. 

That bastard had known she was following him the entire time.