Page 36 of Foresyth Conservatory
“I have come to see the runes as more than just symbols—they are like the roots of the ancient Yggdrasil tree, digging deep into the soil of our understanding, connecting us to something primal and untouchable. Just as a tree’s roots give life to its branches, so too do the runes give rise to all knowledge, from magick to philosophy to the fabric of reality itself. Each rune is a seed, and from it grows the branches of insight and power, stretching far beyond the surface of what we know.
Yet, like the forest, the runes hold their secrets closely, whispering in a language almost understood, but just beyond reach. I cannot shake the feeling that the deeper I dig, the more I disturb something ancient and wild—something that, perhaps, was meant to stay buried.”
–Julian Earhardt’s journal, dated February 4th, 1919
Chapter 14: The Third Tree
I traced my fingers across the old tree, letting the coarse bark scrape against my palm. It was nearly five in the morning, yet I couldn’t sleep, not after Sequoia’s reading. I had been pouring over Julian’s old journals and somehow found myself down here.
Aspen. The Trees.
There were really three of them in the House, if you included the monstrous oak in the reading room.
It’s peculiar to have a tree within a House like this, I thought, letting my fingers dig into the bark. How did its roots grow without disturbing the foundation? I circled its trunk, as if tracing the tree would reveal something about its origins or the House itself. Julian had died on this tree, I was certain. But before he died, he had left a clue—the strange symbol on the back of the picture frame, a lion’s head with a serpent’s tail. The same icon I found in his journal and inThe Book of Skorn. Was there anything else he had left behind that I’d overlooked?
The bark snagged on my sweater, tearing a small piece away to reveal the wood beneath—milky and smooth, reminding me of pale moonlight. But at the very edge of the exposed patch, I noticed a marking. It was faint but deliberate, clearly carved. It wasn’t natural. Using my nails, I peeled away more bark, uncovering a symbol. Once enough bark had been cleared, I studied it closely: two triangles, stacked in a way that resembled a “B.” Where had I seen this marking before?
The runes.The memory hit me suddenly, like a weed bursting through rubble. I was researching the origins of rune magick for the Meister’s project. But why would this tree bear runes? And how had it regrown bark over the carvings?
“What are you doing up so early, Tarot reader?” I’d recognize that deep, thunderous voice anywhere. Acid rose in my throat as I turned slowly to face him.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said, stating the truth as I turned to Aspen. No point in lying when it wasn’t necessary.
He smirked, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Something on your mind?” He trailed two fingers along the edge of the red chaise, circling around to sit.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I replied, crossing my arms. He might be a suspect, but I doubted he’d harm me here, with others due for breakfast in an hour. Still, I didn’t like that smirk on his face.
“Relax. I think better in the morning than at night. Everyone here’s a night owl, but not me. I’m an early bird, and today, I’ve found a worm.” His smile widened.
He was infuriating, but I couldn’t let him see that he was getting to me.
“I’ve never seen what you’re working on. Why don’t you show me some of your sculptures?” I changed the subject, hoping it might draw him in. Perhaps showing interest in his work was the way to get through to him. But he didn’t take the bait; instead, his eyes narrowed.
“I don’t show incomplete work like an amateur. You’ll have to wait until the Symposium, like everyone else. Besides, don’t you have your hands full with two research projects and investigating Julian’s death?”
My heart dropped. Did he just say what I thought he did?
He laughed, the sound hollow. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, little worm. Did you really think I hadn’t noticed? I know the Meister hired you to look into Julian’s death. I saw you carrying a box of Julian’s things from his office the other day.” He stood, moving toward me. My hand instinctively twitched toward the dagger sheathed at my ankle. Leaning against the tree, I adjusted my stance, my hand closer to the blade.
He inched toward me, a predator stalking toward his prey. Perhaps I should have left Foresyth last night when I’d had the chance.
“And what’s most interesting is that you think you’re getting closer to the truth.” He was a foot away now, his eyes gleaming. It would take me only seconds to draw my dagger and another two to nick his throat. Not enough to kill, but to scare. I willed my heart to quiet. He leaned in so close I could trace the lines of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, and his almond eyes—like Sequoia’s, but without her softness. He was her jagged reflection.
“And while I do love making a worm squirm, I’ve come to set the record straight.” His breath was hot on my cheek. I inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of pine and wax. But in the next moment, he pushed himself off and turned away.
His back was to me. I could strike with a single swift motion if I wanted to.
“You can take this as an official statement: I didn’t kill Julian. But I know who might have.” My stomach lurched, though my pulse steadied now that he was at a safe distance.
Should I play ignorant, or admit my investigation? Aspen had seen the box of evidence. He already knew my true purpose.
“I must say, I underestimated you, Aspen. You might really be as clever as you believe yourself to be.”
Aspen smiled, his expression unexpectedly genuine. If he had information, it might be worth letting him believe I was willing to listen. Then again, it would be safer to keep my distance.
“But you’re wrong. Everyone knows that Julian’s death was a suicide. The Meister gave me his things so I could continue his work on Norse runes. I’m his research assistant, nothing more.”
Aspen’s face fell as he considered. “Very well, reader. If that’s the story you’re sticking to.” He paused, eyeing me. “You’re hoping I’ll still tell you what I know, aren’t you?”
