Page 67 of Shattered Crown

His form was translucent but eyes still kind. “We've come to help, young one. The first pact held secrets even we didn't fully understand. Knowledge that may tip the balance.”

Other spirits gathered close, sharing whispered wisdom about the original ceremony. Details emerged that history had forgotten: the precise timing of power transfers, the emotional resonance required, the willing surrender that made transformation possible rather than destructive.

As the spirits faded, Thorne found Silas at the circle's center, studying the restored patterns with intense concentration. Their eyes met, and wordless understanding passed between them. Whatever came next, they would face it together.

The moment of calm shattered as horns sounded from the valley's edge. Sebastian had arrived.

Thorne's first glimpse of his enemy made his essence recoil. Sebastian no longer appeared fully human. The Shadowblight wrapped around him like living armor, darkness seeping from his skin and corruption twisting his features into something monstrous. Behind him marched an army of nightmares: shadow-touched soldiers, corrupted mages, and worst of all, guardian spirits twisted into parodies of their natural forms.

“Positions!” Nathaniel shouted, and their forces moved with practiced coordination.

Thorne took his place at the ritual circle's edge, other guardians forming a protective ring. His power surged, amplified by proximity to this sacred ground. Ancient trees at the valley's borders responded to his call, their branches reaching toward the sky like supplicating hands.

Sebastian's voice carried across the battlefield, distorted by the entity controlling him. “You think your pathetic ritual can undo centuries of evolution? The Shadowblight is progress itself!”

“It's corruption,” Thorne called back. “And today we burn it from the world.”

Battle erupted with volcanic force. Sebastian's corrupted forces crashed against their defensive lines like a black tide. Frost fey met shadow creatures with crystalline weapons, each clash sending shockwaves through reality. Human mages dueled their corrupted counterparts, spells lighting the morning sky with deadly beauty.

Thorne found himself facing corrupted guardians, their familiar forms twisted beyond recognition. Each one had been a friend, a colleague, a fellow protector of natural order. Now they attacked with mindless fury, shadow magic pouring from wounds that never healed.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, engaging the first. His power reached out not to destroy but to cleanse, trying to burn away corruption while preserving the spirit beneath. Some responded, fighting free of shadow control long enough to flee or collapse. Others were too far gone, forcing Thorne to end their suffering with tears in his eyes.

Through the chaos, Thorne kept aware of Silas's position. His love stood at the ritual circle's heart with Nathaniel, the key pendant at his throat glowing with power as ancient words flowed from his lips.

As battle raged, the Shadowblight finally revealed its true form. The entity rose above the battlefield as a horror of accumulated pain. Centuries of betrayal and broken promises had given it terrible shape: a writhing mass of shadow and spite, with too many eyes and mouths that screamed in voices stolen from its victims.

Its presence corrupted everything it touched. Grass withered to ash beneath it. Water turned black and poisonous where its shadow fell. The very air became thick with despair, making each breath a struggle against hopelessness.

“NOW!” Nathaniel's shout cut through the chaos. “Begin the ritual!”

Silas grasped the key pendant, and in a flash of light, it transformed into the Sword of Balance. The ancient weapon of the Ashworth line appeared in his hands, its blade reflecting light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. He plunged it into the center of the ritual circle, and power began to build around him.

Thorne started toward the circle but Sebastian intercepted him with unnatural speed.

“You don't get to win,” Sebastian snarled, striking at Thorne with crushing force. “Not after everything I've sacrificed!”

Their conflict shook the valley's foundations. Sebastian attacked with desperate strength, shadow magic enhancing every strike. Thorne countered with ancient forest techniques, calling on powers that predated human civilization. Around them, the battle continued, but their confrontation had become its focal point.

Thorne felt Silas continuing the ritual. Power built in the circle, ancient magic responding to willing sacrifice. The sensation gave Thorne strength for a final push against Sebastian.

“Your sacrifice was for nothing,” Thorne declared, disarming his opponent with a move that blended physical and magical force. “You chose power over connection. That's why you lose.”

Sebastian fell, and Thorne turned toward the ritual circle. What he saw made his heart simultaneously break and soar.

The ritual was reaching its climax. Golden light spiraled up from the Sword of Balance, surrounding Silas in a cocoon of pure energy. His face contorted with effort as he channeled power that seemed to tear at the very fabric of reality. The Shadowblight howled, sensing the threat.

Suddenly, Elandor appeared at the circle's edge opposite Nathaniel. His hands wove complex patterns in the air, adding his power to the ritual in ways Thorne hadn't anticipated.

“Something's wrong,” Thorne muttered, sensing a shift in the ritual's purpose.

Before he could intervene, the ritual completed with a thunderous crack. The Sword of Balance shattered, fragments dissolving into motes of light that swirled around Silas before dissipating into the air. The Shadowblight screamed—not in defeat, but in rage and pain.

Silas stumbled from the circle, caught by Nathaniel before he could fall.

“What happened?” Thorne demanded, rushing to Silas's side. “That wasn't the ritual we planned.”

“No,” Nathaniel admitted, supporting Silas's weakened form. “It was a decoy.”

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