Page 41 of Shattered Crown

The shadow entity took advantage of his vulnerability, whispering poison into his thoughts.

He's already adapting back to court life. How long before he remembers the comforts of power? Before he chooses politics over trees, influence over love?

“Shut up,” Thorne growled, earning a confused look from Briar.

“I didn't say anything,” she protested.

“Not you.” He didn't elaborate, focusing instead on putting one foot in front of the other.

When they finally reached the Eldergrove's borders, Thorne nearly wept at the sight. But his relief turned to horror as he saw the damage. Ancient trees bore burn marks, their leaves withered and black. Sacred groves that had stood for millennia lay in ruins, the ground itself poisoned by shadow magic.

The forest recognized him immediately, reaching out with desperate need. Energy flowed into him, not the gentle sustenance he was used to but a frantic outpouring, like a drowning victim clutching at a rescuer. The forest was trying to heal him so he could heal it, a cycle that threatened to drain them both.

“Gods above and below,” Briar whispered, taking in the devastation. “How did it get so bad so quickly?”

Thorne knew the answer. The shadow entity had been planning this for years, perhaps centuries. His absence had simply provided the perfect opportunity to strike.

They made their way deeper into the forest, cataloging damage as they went. The ley lines that should have hummed with power felt sluggish and contaminated. Streams ran black with corruption. Even the air tasted wrong, tainted with a metallic bitterness that made breathing difficult.

At the heart grove, they found the Elder Willow barely clinging to life. Her ancient trunk oozed black sap from numerous wounds, and her branches, usually lush with silver leaves, hung bare and brittle.

“Guardian,” she wheezed, her voice like cracking timber. “You return... almost too late.”

“What happened?” Thorne knelt beside her, placing his hands on her trunk. He could feel the poison working through her system, shadow magic designed specifically to corrupt nature spirits.

“The enemy knew... when to strike. Your absence... left us vulnerable.” Her remaining leaves rustled weakly. “Agnes leads the defense... but we are failing.”

Agnes appeared as if summoned by her name, materializing from a cluster of surviving trees. The hedge witch looked exhausted, her herb-stained hands trembling slightly.

“Thank the old gods you're back,” she said without preamble. “We've held the worst at bay, but barely. The shadow entity's forces press harder each night.”

“What forces?” Thorne asked, already dreading the answer.

“Corrupted spirits, shadow beasts, and worse. Things I have no names for. They come from places where the barriers between realms have grown thin.”

Thorne closed his eyes, extending his consciousness through the forest's network. What he sensed made his blood run cold. The shadow entity hadn't just attacked the Eldergrove, it had turned parts of it into a beachhead for invasion.

“I need to stabilize the ley lines,” he announced, pushing himself to his feet despite the protests of his overtaxed body. “Seal the breaches before more comes through.”

“You need to rest,” Agnes countered. “You're barely holding yourself together.”

“There's no time.” Thorne looked at the dying Elder Willow, at the corrupted trees surrounding them. “If I don't act now, there won't be a forest left to save.”

He began the work immediately, spreading his consciousness through the entire forest despite the risk. It felt like stretching himself tissue-thin, becoming vulnerable to attack on countless fronts. But he had no choice. The most critical areas needed immediate attention: failing wards that held back the worst of the corruption, poisoned water sources that were killing everything downstream, and tears in reality that grew wider by the hour.

The shadow entity struck while he was spread thin, manifesting through corrupted trees and pools of liquid darkness. Its voice echoed from a dozen directions at once.

Foolish guardian. You've left your heart exposed.

Visions assaulted Thorne's mind: Silas in the capital, making deals with nobles, slowly being drawn back into the world of power and privilege. Silas laughing at court functions, the forest forgotten. Silas in another's arms, whispering that Thorne had been nothing but a wild adventure, a story to tell at parties.

“Lies,” Thorne snarled, but doubt gnawed at him. Their bond felt so distant now, stretched to its limit. What if the entity spoke truth?

Shadow creatures attacked physically while the entity assaulted his mind. Thorne fought on both fronts, using skills honed over centuries. But he was weak, divided, and the enemy knew it.

As he worked, he felt his bond with Silas stretching to dangerous levels. The connection that had once been constant and warm now felt like a thread about to snap. Each use of power, each moment of divided attention, strained it further.

With a heavy heart, Thorne made a decision that felt like betrayal. He began to shield his end of the bond, creating barriers to protect Silas from experiencing the forest's agony. His lover didn't need to feel every tree that burned, every spirit that screamed, every wound that refused to heal.

---