Page 19 of Shattered Crown

ROADS OF MEMORY

His feet found the ancient ways with unerring certainty, following threads of power that pulsed beneath the earth like a second heartbeat. The ley lines hummed with familiar energy, though fainter now than in his memories.

“These roads,” he explained to Silas, who rode close beside him, “once connected every guardian forest across the realm. Humans and fey traveled them freely, in harmony.” His voice carried the weight of centuries, each word heavy with loss. “Before trust became a casualty of ambition.”

Silas reached across the space between their horses, his fingers brushing Thorne's arm. The simple touch grounded him, pulled him back from the edge of melancholy that threatened to swallow him whole.

“Tell me more,” Silas urged gently. “What was it like then?”

Thorne guided his mount around a fallen tree that would have been invisible to mortal eyes, the glamour still holding after all these years. “Imagine roads that sang beneath your feet, where every step brought you closer to magic itself. Children would run these paths without fear, knowing protection surrounded them.”

A twisted oak loomed ahead, its branches forming an archway over the path. The bark had darkened to near-black with age, yet veins of silver ran through it like frozen lightning.

“Here,” he whispered, pulling his horse to a stop. The air around the tree shimmered with residual magic, visible only to those who knew how to look. “This is where I met Guardian Ashara for the summer solstice, seven hundred years past. We danced until dawn, celebrating the turning of seasons.” His hand traced the air where memory showed him figures long gone, their forms wreathed in midsummer fireflies. “She fell when her forest burned. I felt her passing like a knife to my heart.”

The tree seemed to lean toward him, as if remembering those ancient celebrations. Its leaves rustled without wind, carrying echoes of long-silent laughter.

Silas dismounted and came to stand beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. “I'm sorry,” he said simply, knowing better than to offer empty platitudes.

They continued on, each landmark unleashing a flood of memories. A stream where water spirits had taught young fey the language of rivers, their liquid voices creating melodies that could soothe the most troubled heart. The water still carried echoes of their songs, though fainter now, like whispers through time.

A meadow where... Thorne's throat tightened. Wildflowers swayed in invisible currents, their colors more muted than he remembered.

“This clearing,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “marks where the old ways first began to fracture. Marcus came here, one of the first humans permitted past our wards. I met him in my true form, all antlers and starlight, thinking to awe him into proper respect.” His bitter laugh scattered a flock of ravens. “Instead, he saw opportunity. Power to be claimed rather than honored.”

As they ventured deeper into lands, Thorne felt the echoes of old magic like phantom limbs. The air grew thick with memory, each breath carrying tastes of power long faded. Some places still recognized him, their energy reaching out in welcome like old friends. Ancient stones hummed as he passed, their crystalline hearts remembering his footsteps from centuries before.

Others recoiled, their essence twisted by whatever fate had befallen their protectors. A grove of silver birches stood like bleached bones, their bark blackened where corruption had taken root. The ground beneath them felt wrong, as if the earth itself had been poisoned.

Silas experienced these sensations secondhand. Thorne felt his lover's sharp intake of breath as they passed through a glen that screamed with silent agony. The flowers here grew in unnatural spirals, their petals the color of old bruises.

“So much pain,” Silas whispered, his face pale. “How do you bear it?”

“I didn't,” Thorne admitted. “For centuries, I hid from it. Wrapped myself in isolation and called it protection.” He turned to meet Silas's eyes. “Until you.”

The moment called for more, but Kai's voice interrupted from behind them. “Not to break up this touching scene, but are we stopping for lunch anytime soon? Some of us still need regular food.”

Thorne shook himself from his reverie. “There's a clearing ahead. We'll rest there.”

As they settled for their midday break, Thorne used the opportunity to continue Silas's magical education. He positioned himself behind his lover, chest pressed to Silas's back, and guided his hands in the proper gestures. Their fingers intertwined, creating patterns in the air that left trails of faint luminescence.

“Feel the flow beneath us,” he instructed, his breath warm against Silas's ear. The earth pulsed with ancient rhythms, ley lines crossing beneath their feet like veins of liquid starlight. “The land has its own pulse, its own rhythm. Match your breathing to it.”

Silas leaned back into him, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Through their joined hands, Thorne shared his perception, letting Silas experience the world as a guardian did. Colors became more vivid, scents carried stories, and the very air thrummed with potential.

“It's like the earth is singing,” Silas breathed, his eyes wide with wonder. Around them, flowers turned their faces toward the joined magic, drinking in the harmony.

“Now you understand why we protect it,” Thorne replied, pressing a kiss to his temple. The gesture sent ripples through the ambient magic, making nearby leaves shimmer with borrowed light.

“Get a room,” Briar called from where she perched on a branch. “Or at least a bush. Some of us are trying to eat.”

“Jealous?” Kai shot back, grinning.

“Of what? Their sickeningly perfect magical bond? Their destiny-approved romance? Please.” But Briar's smile held genuine warmth.

* * *

They madecamp in a sheltered dell. The emotional weight of the day's journey pressed down on Thorne like physical burden. Too many memories, too many ghosts. He found himself withdrawing, old habits of isolation creeping back.

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