The woods stretched endlessly around Clara and Hensley as they moved through the shadows, the vial pulsing faintly in her bag like a heartbeat. Every step carried an air of urgency, but Clara''s mind was elsewhere, unraveling the bombshell Daniel had dropped.


    "You''re part of the Blackthorn bloodline."


    It couldn’t be true. Her parents were ordinary—teachers who’d lived simple, predictable lives. But the strange pull she’d felt toward Jonathan’s work, the liquid’s resonance with her—it all suggested otherwise.


    “Clara,” Hensley said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. “You’re a million miles away. Talk to me.”


    Clara hesitated, then sighed. “What if Daniel’s right? What if I am part of the Blackthorn family?”


    Hensley shrugged. “Then it explains why the liquid reacts to you. But does it really change anything?”


    “It changes everything,” Clara said firmly. “If I’m connected to them, I need to know why. My whole life could be a lie.”


    Hensley stopped and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’re running out of time. We find the Node first, then we dig into your ancestry. Deal?”


    Clara nodded reluctantly. “Deal.”


    <hr>


    The Blackthorn Estate


    By dawn, the remnants of the Blackthorn estate loomed before them. It was little more than a skeleton of charred beams and crumbling stone, the forest slowly reclaiming what had once been a sprawling mansion.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    “This is it?” Hensley asked, surveying the ruins. “Doesn’t look like much.”


    Clara scanned the area, her heart pounding. “Jonathan must have hidden the Node somewhere the fire wouldn’t destroy it.”


    She spotted a stone staircase leading into what might have been a basement. The steps were overgrown with moss and nearly hidden under fallen debris.


    “Down there,” Clara said, motioning to the stairs.


    The air grew colder as they descended into the dark. At the bottom, they found a steel door, its surface etched with intricate geometric patterns. Clara’s breath caught as she ran her fingers over the designs. They were eerily similar to the ones she’d seen in Jonathan’s notes.


    “Looks like it needs more than a key,” Hensley said.


    Clara pulled the vial from her bag. Its glow intensified as she held it close to the door. With a trembling hand, she placed it in a small, circular recess at the door’s center. The patterns lit up, lines of light snaking across the surface. A soft clickechoed, and the door swung open.


    <hr>


    The Chamber of Secrets


    Inside was a pristine chamber, untouched by fire or time. The walls were lined with bookshelves, old equipment, and faded photographs. At the center of the room sat a pedestal, and atop it was a small, intricately designed device—the Node.


    Clara approached the pedestal, her eyes drawn to a photograph beside it. It showed Jonathan Blackthorn standing with a woman and a young girl, no older than five. Clara’s breath hitched as she stared at the girl’s face.


    It was her.


    “No,” Clara whispered, her hands trembling as she picked up the photo. “That’s not possible.”


    Hensley stepped closer, his brow furrowed. “Clara, is that…?”


    “It’s me,” she said, her voice barely audible. “But I don’t remember this.”


    She turned the photo over. Scrawled on the back in Jonathan’s handwriting were the words: “Clara. My daughter. My hope.”