Page 104 of Shattered Crown

The Shadowblight, freed from need for a vessel, erupted into its true form. Reality tore as the entity emerged: a being of pure corruption existing partially outside normal space-time. No longer bound by physical limitations, it could corrupt and consume without restraint.

Its laughter echoed through both physical and mental dimensions, a sound that drove several defenders to madness.

“Fall back!” Thorne commanded, recognizing the changed battlefield. “Retreat to the inner sanctum!”

But Silas stood his ground, the newly formed Bridge facing the unleashed Shadowblight. Light and darkness, creation and corruption, balance and chaos—fundamental opposites confronting each other at last.

“This ends now,” Silas declared, his transformed voice carrying power that made reality itself resonate. “You exist because of division. I exist to heal it.”

The Shadowblight struck, corruption flowing toward Silas like a tidal wave of nightmares. Thorne cried out, certain he was about to witness his love's destruction. But where corruption touched Silas, it hesitated, confused by his nature as the Bridge between realms.

Silas seized this moment of uncertainty. He reached toward the entity's core, hands glowing with the power of his transformed state. “Return to balance,” he commanded.

For a heartbeat, it seemed to work. The Shadowblight's essence began to shift, to reorganize under Silas's influence. Corruption wavered, uncertain, caught between its nature and the Bridge's command.

Then, with horrifying suddenness, it adapted.

“You are not yet complete,” the Shadowblight's voice hissed, malevolent understanding in its tone. “The Bridge is newly formed. Untested. Unfinished.”

It struck again, this time targeting not Silas's body but the very fabric of his transformation. Corruption seeped into the spaces between realms, the exact domain the Bridge was meant to stabilize.

Silas staggered, his transformed form flickering. “It's... finding the weaknesses,” he gasped. “The places where the transformation isn't complete.”

Thorne moved to his side instantly. “Take what you need from me,” he offered, reaching for Silas's hand. “My strength. My essence. Whatever helps.”

Their connection flared, guardian power flowing into the struggling Bridge. For a moment, Silas stabilized, his form becoming more solid, more defined. He pushed back against the Shadowblight with renewed force.

But the entity had tasted freedom. It twisted away from Silas's influence, flowing like smoke through cracks in reality. Its laughter echoed as it retreated not in defeat but in strategic withdrawal.

“I cannot be contained by an unfinished bridge,” it mocked. “You lack the strength to hold me, little boundary-walker.”

The corruption thinned, spreading itself across multiple planes simultaneously, becoming too diffuse for Silas to grasp. Not destroyed, not integrated, but escaped—free now to influence subtly rather than corrupt directly.

“No!” Silas reached for it, his expanded consciousness straining to track the entity's dispersal. The effort cost him dearly. His transformed state wavered, power fluctuating as he pushed beyond his limits.

“Silas, stop!” Thorne caught him as he collapsed. “It's gone. For now.”

“I failed,” Silas whispered, his voice returning to something closer to human. The brilliant light of his transformed state dimmed, his form shrinking back toward mortal proportions. “I couldn't hold it.”

Around them, the battlefield showed the strange results of their clash. The corruption had retreated but not vanished. The forest existed in an uncertain state—neither completely corrupted nor fully healed, but caught in transition. The Shadowblight's direct assault had ended, but its essence had dispersed into the world in ways they'd never experienced before.

“What happened?” Kai asked, approaching cautiously. “Did we win?”

Nathaniel studied Silas with expert eyes. “The ritual worked,” he said. “Silas became the Bridge. But the Shadowblight's pure form was too powerful, too adaptable to be contained immediately.”

“Sebastian's sacrifice,” Diana realized. “It freed the entity but also revealed its true nature.”

“Yes,” Thorne confirmed, supporting Silas's weakening form. “We face something different now. Not a corruption attached to a vessel, but a free-moving force.”

Silas stirred in his arms, his transformed state continuing to fade. The cosmic awareness in his eyes dimmed, replaced by exhaustion and pain. His body, which had expanded beyond human limitations, contracted gradually back toward mortal form.

“I can't... maintain this state,” he managed, each word an effort. “Too much... too soon.”

“Let it go,” Thorne urged. “Return to yourself. We'll find another way.”

With a shuddering breath, Silas released his hold on the Bridge state. Light poured from him like water, his expanded consciousness contracting painfully back to human dimensions. Runes flared across his skin, then faded to faint markings that resembled scars or tattoos—evidence of transformation not erased but temporarily dormant.

When it finished, Silas lay in Thorne's arms, human again but irrevocably changed. The ritual had transformed him even if he couldn't maintain that state continuously. He was the Bridge in potential if not in current manifestation.

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