Page 21 of Shattered Crown

“It's breaking everything,” Elena said softly. “The entity you thought defeated is stronger than ever. Those fallen guardians you speak of? It's already raising them. Not as they were, but as weapons bound to its will. Moonshade was just the beginning.”

Thorne's chest tightened, grief and horror warring inside him. Guardians—his kin, his history—turned into enemies he would have to kill.

Silas's hand found his, squeezing gently. “We adapt,” he said quietly. “We learn, and we overcome.”

Elena offered to guide them to her family's sanctuary, but it meant abandoning their original route. Thorne stood at the crossroads, torn between duty and the unbearable choice now laid before him.

“Trust has to start somewhere,” Silas reminded him. “Isn't that what you taught me?”

The memory of their early days, of Silas choosing to trust despite every reason not to, decided him. “Lead on,” he told Elena.

Their new path wound through territories Thorne didn't know, following trails that seemed to exist only for those who knew where to look. Ancient markers, invisible to untrained eyes, guided their way—a stone with spiral carvings here, a tree bent at an impossible angle there. As they traveled, Elena shared more about her heritage.

As they rounded a bend in the trail, a figure materialized from the shadows ahead. Tall and lean, with shoulder-length silver hair that seemed to catch moonlight even in daylight, the newcomer moved with fluid grace. His pale golden eyes, flecked with starlight, fixed on their group with ancient recognition.

“Eliar!” Kai's voice cracked with relief and joy. He urged his horse forward, dismounting before the animal had fully stopped.

The silver-haired guardian caught Kai in a fierce embrace, their reunion speaking of deep bonds and worried separations. Thorne watched with interest as the two exchanged quiet words, noting how Eliar's usually guarded demeanor softened completely in Kai's presence.

“You found them,” Eliar said, his voice carrying undertones of distant thunder. He turned to address Thorne, offering a formal bow. “Thorne. I've been tracking your progress, offering what protection I could from a distance.”

“The wards we kept sensing,” Thorne realized. “That was you?”

Eliar nodded. “When Kai told me of your mission...” He glanced at his partner with unmistakable fondness. “I couldn't let him face these dangers alone.”

Before Thorne could question further, magical energy crackled through the air like lightning before a storm. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath.

“Ambush!” Kai shouted, already drawing his sword. Beside him, Eliar's form blurred with celestial light, ancient power awakening.

Royal mages materialized from concealment, their robes rippling with hostile enchantments. The air grew thick with the taste of iron and sulfur as they began their assault. But it was the darkness underlying their magic that made Thorne's blood freeze—a corruption that writhed beneath their spells like oil on water.

Rage exploded through him, protective instincts overwhelming centuries of restraint. His form shifted, expanding into something ancient and terrible. Starlight skin gave way to living wood and shadow, antlers spreading like branches against the sky. The transformation sent shockwaves through the clearing, leaves falling like rain, small creatures fleeing in terror. His roar shook the earth itself, a sound that hadn't been heard in the mortal realm for generations.

The display shocked everyone, including Silas, who stared with wide eyes at this revelation of Thorne's true power. Even Eliar took a step back, his golden eyes widening in recognition of power older than his own.

But there was no time for explanations. The battle demanded everything they had. As the first spell hurtled toward them, Silas reached for the key at his throat. With a flash of brilliant light, it transformed in his grip, elongating into the Sword of Balance. The blade gleamed with inner radiance, its edge seeming to cut through reality itself.

Thorne and Silas fought as one, their magic weaving together in patterns that seemed written in starlight. Where Thorne's power was wild and ancient, crackling with primordial force, Silas's sword work was precise and purposeful. The Sword of Balance sang through the air, each strike disrupting the corrupted magic of their attackers, cleaving through dark spells as if they were mist.

Elena proved her worth, her hybrid magic creating confusion among their attackers. Spells meant for one target found another, illusions layered upon reality until the mages couldn't trust their own senses.

Eliar moved like liquid silver through the chaos, his Hollowfire magic manifesting as pale flames that burned corruption without harming the forest. When he and Kai fought back-to-back, their synchronization spoke of countless battles fought together. Kai's blade work complemented Eliar's magic perfectly, mundane steel and celestial fire working in deadly harmony.

Briar darted between combatants, her small size belying her effectiveness. Vines erupted from the ground at her command, thorns finding gaps in armor, roots tripping charging soldiers.

The Sword of Balance seemed to pulse with approval as Silas wielded it, resonating with his intent to protect rather than destroy. Each parry sent ripples of purifying energy through the clearing, weakening the shadow-tainted magic of their enemies.

They won, but victory came at a price. Thorne had channeled more power than his distant connection to the Eldergrove could sustain. As the last attacker fell, cut down by a precise strike from the Sword of Balance, so did Thorne. His form flickered between states like a candle in wind, reality struggling to contain his essence.

Silas caught him before he hit the ground, the Sword of Balance shrinking back into its key form as his focus shifted entirely to Thorne. “No, no, no,” he chanted, cradling Thorne's head in his lap. “Stay with me.”

Thorne tried to speak, but his voice came out as rustling leaves. His vision blurred, reality fracturing around the edges. The effort of maintaining his terrifying battle form while so far from his source had drained him nearly to dissolution.

“The sanctuary,” Elena urged. “It's not far. He needs grounding, connection to living magic.”

The journey became a blur of sensation. Silas's arms around him, steady and sure. The rhythm of hoofbeats against ancient stone. Whispered endearments and gentle touches that anchored him to consciousness. Eliar's magic wove protective barriers around their group, his silver hair streaming behind him like a banner of starlight.

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