Page 50 of Of Masks and Fury

“I don’t know yet.” I traced the path from chair to table to stool, my feet moving almost of their own accord. “But this isn’t random. It’s?—”

I stopped.

Third Form defense.

The realization made my breath snag in my throat. I knew these positions. I’d practiced them a thousand times under Thorne’s patient instruction.

“Opening stance,” I whispered, shifting to stand beside the chair. Three paces from the wall, just like Thorne had taught me. Room to maneuver, space to react.

I pivoted, my body remembering the movement even as my mind struggled to catch up. The table marked the pivot point, angled exactly where I’d turn to redirect an attack.

And the stool?—

“Retreat position.” My voice came out stronger now as certainty built. “This is Third Form. Thorne left this for me.”

Trew stepped further into the room, scanning the furniture with new understanding. “A message?”

“Maybe.” I turned in a slow circle, examining the space with fresh eyes. “But why Third Form specifically? Why this pattern?”

Pherin launched from my shoulder, circling the room before landing on the overturned stool. She tilted her head, studying me with bright eyes.Think of weave.

“Forms are the foundation of everything, even thought.” Thorne’s voice echoed in my mind.

He’d used tricks to help me remember sequences, connecting each form to something concrete so I could recall them under pressure.

Just as I could break wards by studying the weave and unraveling it.

“For Third Form, think of the third shelf in a bookcase,” he’d said once.

I faltered mid-thought.

The third shelf.

I spun toward the door, already moving. Trew followed, his footsteps soft behind me as we navigated back through the house to the small study.

The room’s walls were lined with shelves crammed full of books. Training manuals. Histories. Philosophy texts. All organized with the same meticulous care Thorne brought to everything.

I counted down from the top. One. Two. Three.

The third shelf held a dozen books, their spines worn from use. I ran my fingers along them, searching for a clue.

“Third Form has seven positions,” I said, thinking out loud. “Opening, pivot, counter, redirect, advance, pivot, and retreat.”

I pulled the first book from the shelf, flipping to page seven, but I didn’t find anything unusual there.

Trew moved to stand behind me, close enough that I felt his breath stirring my hair. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure yet.” I replaced the book, trying the next one. Hurrying because we didn’t have much time.

Page seven. Still nothing.

The third book. Page seven.

There. A single word underlined in faint pencil: Your.

“It’s a code,” I breathed. “He left me a message.”

Trew leaned closer, reading over my shoulder.