Page 62 of Shattered Crown

Silas closed his eyes and exhaled. Reality was already creeping in, but Thorne’s hand was still on his chest, warm and steady.

“I’m not letting go,” Silas whispered.

“You don’t have to,” Thorne said. “We’re not done. We’re just getting started.”

They dressed quickly and met Lyra in the hallway. Her expression made Silas's stomach clench.

“Father's discovered something about the Shadowblight's origin,” she said without preamble. “The healing ritual requires more than we thought.”

In the main room, Lyra spread ancient documents across the table. The text seemed to shift when viewed directly, words in languages that predated humanity.

“The Shadowblight isn't just corruption,” Lyra explained. “It's the manifestation of the original broken promise. To heal it, someone from the bloodline that first betrayed must offer themselves.”

“Offer themselves?” Silas felt cold despite the fire Elena had built. “You mean...”

“Not necessarily death,” Lyra clarified quickly. “But transformation. Fundamental change. The volunteer becomes a living bridge between realms, forever altered.”

Silence fell as implications sank in. Silas felt Thorne's hand tighten on his shoulder.

“That's why the bond chose us,” Silas realized. “Why everything led here. I'm meant to be that bridge.”

“We don't know that,” Thorne protested. “There are other Ashworths?—”

“None with a guardian bond,” Lyra interrupted. “None who've already started bridging the gap. Father thinks that's crucial.”

The weight of destiny settled on Silas's shoulders like a physical thing. He'd known his choices would have consequences, but this...

“When do we need to decide?” he asked.

“Soon. The ritual must be performed at the right conjunction, and Sebastian's forces grow stronger daily.”

Dawn brought unexpected arrivals. Representatives from various factions crowded into the lodge and surrounding forest, creating an atmosphere of barely controlled chaos. Forest spirits mingled uneasily with rebel nobles while frost fey eyed summer court refugees with ancient hostility.

Silas found himself naturally taking charge, his unique position allowing him to navigate the complex web of alliances. With Thorne beside him, projecting quiet strength, he mediated disputes and forged agreements.

“The northern passes are still clear,” reported a grizzled scout. “But Sebastian's shadow creatures patrol the main roads.”

“We'll need frost magic to cover our movement,” Kai suggested, fiddling with a vial of something that glowed faintly. “If Queen Mab agrees to help. Diana said the Frost Court's been making overtures to the resistance.”

As if summoned, the temperature plummeted. Frost patterns spread across windows as Queen Mab herself materialized in their midst. Her beauty was terrible, all sharp angles and winter's bite.

Negotiations with the Frost Queen proved delicate. Mab circled the room like a predator, her crystalline gown leaving trails of frost on the wooden floor. Her eyes, ancient and calculating, fixed on each person in turn as if weighing their worth.

“You seek the Winter Court's aid,” she stated, her voice carrying the bite of arctic wind. “Yet you offer nothing concrete in return. Pretty words and promises of friendship mean little when blood freezes on the battlefield.”

Silas stepped forward, refusing to be intimidated. “What would you have of us, Your Majesty?”

Mab's smile revealed teeth like icicles. “The Northern Reaches have been disputed territory for eight centuries. I want them recognized as sovereign Winter Court domain.”

“That's a third of the kingdom's timber resources,” Kai protested.

“Silence, witchling,” Mab snapped, and frost crept up Kai's legs, rooting him in place. “You speak to the Queen of Air and Darkness.”

Thorne moved protectively closer to Silas. “Release him, Mab. We're here to negotiate, not threaten.”

The frost receded, and Mab laughed like breaking ice. “Still so protective, guardian? How... quaint.” She turned back to Silas. “The Reaches are my first demand. Second, formal recognition of the Winter Court as an independent nation, with embassy rights in your capital.”

“And third?” Silas asked, already dreading the answer.

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