Page 85 of Shattered Crown

“And make everything worse,” Silas said. “Uncoordinated attacks will only feed Sebastian's power. Thorne has seen this happen before—division strengthens the corruption.”

“My son is correct,” Thomas stated, his tone brooking no argument. “This is precisely why coordination between realms is essential. Isolated responses strengthen our enemy.”

The acknowledgment, slight as it was, rippled through the room. Thomas supporting Silas's position represented a shift, however strategic.

The discussion continued for hours, plans proposed and refined. They faced an enemy that defied conventional warfare, requiring strategies that blended military might with magical understanding. Throughout, Silas noticed his father listening more than commanding, weighing the forest knowledge Silas relayed with the same consideration as military counsel.

That night, alone in his chambers, Silas allowed himself to feel the full weight of responsibility. He reached out through the bond, seeking Thorne's presence.

I miss you,he sent.

And I you,came the tired reply.How went the council?

Better than expected. My father framed it as strategic necessity, not fundamental change. Traditionalists still resist, but fear of Sebastian proves a powerful motivator.

A wave of sorrow flowed through their connection.Elder Willow fades. I'm losing her, Silas. And with her, ancient protections I'm not sure I can replicate alone.

Elder Willow represented living history, wisdom accumulated over millennia. Her loss would devastate the Eldergrove and weaken their defenses significantly.

Come back,Silas urged.Even for a day. You need rest.

Soon. I promise. There's just... something's changing here. The corruption feels different. Aware. Like it's watching us.

The description sent chills down Silas's spine.Be careful.

Always. I love you.

I love you too.

* * *

Morning brought fresh challenges.Silas found himself summoned to his father's private study—a rare occurrence even before his exile. When he arrived, Thomas stood by the window, gazing out at the mist-shrouded gardens.

“The church elders request audience,” Thomas said without turning. “They have... concerns about theological implications.”

“Cardinal Winters?”

“Among others.” Thomas set down his cup. “We need their support, or at least their neutrality. The people listen to religious leaders.”

“Mother had influence with them,” Silas observed carefully. “They respected her spiritual intuition.”

Thomas turned slightly. “Yes. She had a gift for finding common ground between faith and progress.” His voice carried something almost wistful. “A skill I never mastered.”

“I found her letters to Cardinal Soren,” Silas ventured. “She helped him reconcile forest healing practices with church doctrine.”

“Did you?” Thomas's eyebrow raised slightly. “Convenient timing.”

“Not convenience. Necessity.” Silas met his father's gaze directly. “I'm not leveraging her memory lightly. But she built bridges we need now.”

Thomas studied him for a long moment. “You have her eyes. And her uncomfortable habit of being right at inconvenient moments.”

Nathaniel entered, carrying a stack of documents, breaking the moment. “Good morning. I've been researching historical precedents for our situation.”

“Find anything useful?” Silas asked.

“Several ancient treaties between human kingdoms and the forest realm. Most were forgotten or deliberately buried, but the frameworks exist.” Nathaniel spread papers across the table. “This one's particularly interesting. A mutual defense pact from eight centuries ago, never formally dissolved.”

Thomas leaned forward, studying the text with practiced neutrality. “The Northern Concordat. I remember references to this. Always considered it half-legend.”

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