Page 59 of Shattered Crown

Their allies needed no further urging. Elena led the evacuation, her arrows covering their withdrawal while Silas and Thorne maintained the protective barrier.

The shadow blight pounded against their shield. “You cannot run forever,” it promised, its voice carrying across realities. “I will hunt you to the ends of the earth. Every friend will become an enemy. Every haven will become a trap. Every moment of happiness will birth new suffering.”

“We'll face whatever comes,” Silas replied, his arm steady around Thorne's waist.

As they fled the corrupted grove, Thorne felt strength returning to his limbs. The physical freedom was intoxicating, but more important was the spiritual liberation. The chains had tried to break him, to sever his connection to everything he loved. They had failed.

But even as they escaped immediate danger, Thorne knew the entity's threats weren't empty. It had revealed its true scope, its ambitions beyond mere dominion. It sought to corrupt the very connections between worlds, to poison the wells of trust and love that made cooperation possible.

“It's been behind everything,” Thorne said as they paused to catch their breath.

Silas nodded, his face grim but determined. “Then we'll have to starve it. Unite instead of divide. Trust instead of suspect.”

They rejoined their scattered allies at a predetermined rendezvous point. Seeing the mix of humans and magical beings working together despite their fear sent a surge of hope through Thorne's heart. This was what the Shadowblight feared most: cooperation born of genuine care rather than forced servitude.

As they planned their next move, Thorne caught Silas studying him with concern. “What is it?”

“The chains,” Silas said softly. “They've left marks.”

Thorne looked down at his wrists, seeing the angry red lines where the bindings had burned his essence. They would likely scar, permanent reminders of his captivity.

“Battle scars,” he said with forced lightness. “They'll match yours now.”

Silas didn't smile. Instead, he took Thorne's marked wrists in his hands, pressing gentle kisses to each wound. “I'm sorry I couldn't get to you sooner.”

“You came,” Thorne replied simply. “That's all that matters.”

Their moment was interrupted by Elena's return. “Scouts report Sebastian's forces are regrouping. The Shadowblight is driving them hard. We need to move.”

As they prepared to depart, Thorne took one last look at the Eldergrove. Smoke rose from multiple fires, and the corruption spread visibly even from this distance. His heart ached for his forest, for the spirits still trapped within.

“We'll come back,” Silas promised, reading his thoughts. “We'll free them all.”

Thorne nodded, squaring his shoulders. The Shadowblight had shown its hand, revealed the scope of its ambitions. But in doing so, it had also revealed its weakness. It feared true connection, genuine trust between beings. That would be their weapon.

As they set off toward whatever sanctuary they could find, Thorne felt something he hadn't experienced in centuries: genuine optimism. The road ahead would be difficult, the battles fierce, but they faced it together.

And together, they might just save everything.

14

BLOOD AND PROMISES

The abandoned hunting lodge smelled of dust and old wood, but it was defensible and hidden. Silas guided Thorne to a worn couch near the cold fireplace, his hands never leaving his guardian's body. Every breath Thorne took felt like a miracle after seeing him chained and suffering.

“Let me see,” Silas murmured, gently pushing aside torn fabric to examine the angry red marks circling Thorne's wrists. The binding chains had burned deep, leaving wounds that went beyond flesh.

Thorne tried to pull away. “They'll heal.”

“Don't.” Silas caught his hand, pressing a kiss to the damaged skin. “Don't hide from me. Not now.”

Something broke in Thorne's expression. He collapsed against Silas, all his ancient strength crumbling as delayed reaction hit. Silas held him tight, feeling tremors run through the powerful body he'd feared he'd never touch again.

“I thought I'd lost you,” Silas whispered into silver hair. “When the bond went quiet, I thought...”

“I'm here.” Thorne's voice cracked. “I'm here, love. I'm here.”

Their kisses tasted of tears and desperation. Hands relearned familiar curves and planes, seeking reassurance in heated skin and racing pulses. Magic sparked between them with each touch, guardian green mixing with the gold of Silas's newfound power.

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