Page 40 of Shattered Crown

“Too many rituals already,” Thorne muttered. He could feel the threads of his essence fraying from the last one. “Anything more formal and I’ll dissolve into a puff of poetic mist.”

“There’s another way,” Silas said suddenly. He stepped forward, eyes on Thorne. “A memory bridge. Agnes taught me the theory, back at Thornhaven. It’s not a ritual—more like… an imprint.”

Thorne tilted his head. “An imprint?”

“Not permanent. Not binding. But strong enough to carry a flicker of thought, a burst of emotion. It uses shared memory to anchor the connection.”

“It requires consent,” Elena added. “And trust.”

The group looked at one another, and slowly, they nodded.

They sat in a circle on the damp stones of the garden path, no incantations, no drawn symbols—just presence. Thorne watched Silas move to the center, unspooling a length of silver thread from his satchel. Not magical in itself, but laced with memory—he recognized it as the thread Silas had once used to bind the torn pages of his grandmother’s journal.

Silas placed it in the center and said, “Everyone, touch it. And think of a moment you shared with someone here. Atruemoment.”

Thorne laid two fingers on the thread, the fabric soft and cold beneath his hand. He thought of Silas laughing beside the fire, soot smudged across his cheek, stubborn and alive. Of Briar asleep in the curve of his shoulder, snoring faintly. Of the forest singing beneath his feet.

The thread began to glow, faintly at first, then with pulsing warmth. It wasn't the sharp surge of ritual magic. It was quieter—like water finding a path through stone.

Thorne felt something unlock. A flicker. A tether. A quiet knowing that if he reached out in a moment of need, the others wouldfeelit. Not words. Not images. But presence. A brush of thought. A ripple across still water.

He shuddered as the thread dimmed again, the glow sinking into the earth like dew.

“It’s done,” Silas said quietly.

Thorne blinked hard, feeling the subtle pressure of connections now tethered to his core—thin, silvered strands of feeling that hummed with the voices of those he trusted.

Not a ritual. Not a vow. But enough.

And maybe, for now,enoughwas all they had.

“Time to go,” Diana announced, checking the sun's position. “We need to move before Sebastian's patrols increase.”

The goodbyes were hurried, overshadowed by urgency and fear. Kai hugged Silas fiercely, whispering something that made his friend laugh despite everything. Eliar placed a hand on Thorne's shoulder, their magics briefly harmonizing as star guardian connected with forest guardian.

“I'll watch over him,” Eliar promised Silas, nodding toward Thorne. “The Eldergrove needs its guardian whole.”

Silas and Thorne's farewell was wordless. They simply held each other, foreheads pressed together, sharing breath and heartbeat until Diana gently pulled them apart.

“I'll see you soon,” Silas promised, though they both knew it might be a lie.

“Stay safe,” Thorne replied, the most inadequate words in any language.

The journey back to the Eldergrove tested Thorne's depleted reserves to their limits. What should have been a simple matter of shadow-walking became a grueling trek through hostile territory. His weakness made him vulnerable to iron barriers and detection spells that normally wouldn't have affected him.

At one checkpoint, guards with iron-tipped spears nearly caught them. Thorne had to dissolve completely into shadow, seeping through cracks in the wall while Briar created a distraction. Eliar used his star magic to shield their presence, but the strain showed on his usually serene face.

Reforming on the other side left Thorne gasping and disoriented, his essence scattered like puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together anymore.

“You're getting worse,” Briar observed, her usual cheerfulness replaced by genuine fear. “I've never seen you struggle like this.”

“Just need to reach the forest,” Thorne managed, though privately he wondered if even the Eldergrove could heal damage this deep.

“The star paths might help,” Eliar suggested, his pale gold eyes studying Thorne with concern. “They run parallel to the ley lines but draw from different sources.”

They tried Eliar's suggestion, following celestial currents that most beings couldn't perceive. It helped slightly, giving Thorne enough strength to continue, though the star magic felt foreign against his forest nature.

The separation from Silas created a constant ache, like a missing limb that still tried to move. Through their bond, he caught fragments of his lover's experiences: tense negotiations with wavering nobles, narrow escapes from Sebastian's assassins, moments of doubt in darkened hallways. Each glimpse was both comfort and torment, knowing Silas lived but being unable to help him.

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