Page 20 of Shattered Crown

Silas noticed, of course. He always noticed.

Using techniques Thorne had taught him, Silas wove living branches into a private shelter. The magic wasn't perfect—leaves trembled with uncertainty, and some branches resisted the unfamiliar touch—but the intent behind it made Thorne's chest tight with emotion.

“Come here,” Silas said softly, drawing him inside.

In the green-filtered dimness, Thorne finally let his guard down. Centuries of grief poured out in great, shuddering waves. His tears fell like liquid starlight, each drop carrying memories of fallen friends and lost homes. Silas held him through it, strong arms anchoring him to the present, murmuring words of comfort that needed no magic to heal.

“I failed them,” Thorne choked out. “All of them. Every guardian who fell, every forest that burned. I should have done more.”

“You survived,” Silas countered. “You protected what you could. And now you're fighting to make things right.”

They sat together in silence, drawing strength from each other's presence until Thorne's ancient grief subsided into something manageable.

* * *

As Thorne scouted their perimeter,he detected magical signatures that made his blood run cold. Royal mages, yes, but something else lurked beneath their spellwork. Something that tasted of shadow and ancient malice.

“We're being tracked,” he announced when he returned to camp. “And not just by human magic.”

The group gathered close as he explained what he'd sensed. Kai's usual humor vanished, replaced by the sharp focus that had made him invaluable during their past battles.

“Can we outrun them?” he asked.

“Not directly,” Thorne replied. “But I know older paths. They'll cost us time, but they might save our lives.”

Their detour led them through increasingly wild country, following routes that existed more in memory than reality. By midday, they reached ruins that made Thorne's steps falter.

“What is this place?” Silas asked, dismounting to examine the overgrown stones.

“A shrine,” Thorne answered, his voice hollow. “Dedicated to the partnership between guardians and humans. I attended ceremonies here with both brothers.” His hand traced carvings worn smooth by time. “We swore oaths of friendship in this very spot.”

As they explored the ruins, signs of recent activity became apparent. Fresh flowers on the altar. Protection wards newly renewed. Someone had been maintaining this forgotten place.

“You're not alone,” came a voice from the shadows.

Thorne spun, power gathering at his fingertips. A young woman stepped into the light, her features striking. Ashworth blood ran true in her face, in the set of her shoulders, in the defiant tilt of her chin.

“Who are you?” Silas demanded, moving protectively closer to Thorne.

“Elena,” she replied. “Last daughter of Lysander's line.” Her eyes fixed on Thorne. “I've been waiting for you.”

The revelation sent shockwaves through their group. Briar darted forward, circling Elena with curious intensity. Kai's hand rested on his sword hilt, ever cautious.

“Prove it,” Thorne challenged, though his heart already knew the truth.

Elena smiled and raised her hands. Magic flowed from her fingertips, weaving patterns that complemented Thorne's own power perfectly. The harmony was unmistakable, the same resonance he shared with Silas.

“We've kept the old ways alive,” Elena explained. “Generation after generation, preparing for this moment.”

“What moment?” Silas asked.

Elena's expression darkened. “The moment when shadows consume everything we've protected.” She looked to Thorne. “You seek Moonshade Forest, don't you? Where the main refuge was?”

“Was?” Thorne caught the past tense immediately.

“The shadow entity found them three nights ago,” Elena's voice cracked. “It wasn't just destruction—it was corruption. Every spirit, every keeper of Lysander's legacy, turned into vessels for darkness. I escaped only because...” She showed them a pendant that pulsed with protective magic. “Lysander's own ward. Given to the eldest daughter of each generation.”

Thorne felt the world tilt beneath him. “That's not possible. The Moorshade sanctuary had protections centuries old?—”

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