Page 89 of Shattered Crown

Then explain it to me. But don't use me as an excuse to avoid your destiny.

The gentle rebuke stung because it was accurate. Thorne had been using his love for Silas as a shield against responsibility he feared.

“I need time to think,” he told Elder Willow.

“Time is the one luxury we lack,” she said, just as the ground trembled beneath their feet. A wave of unnatural cold swept through the clearing, carrying with it the distant rumble of chaos.

From the eastern ridge, a column of dark smoke spiraled into the sky. Magic in the air turned brittle, sharp with warning.

“They’ve broken through the eastern border,” a sprite said grimly. “The heart grove is under threat.”

Thorne leaped to his feet, warrior instincts overtaking existential concerns. “How many?”

“Thousands. Led by corrupted guardians. They bring engines of twisted magic.” The sprite replied.

Elder Willow struggled to rise. “So. Sebastian makes his move.”

“You're too weak to fight,” Thorne protested.

“And yet fight I must.” Steel entered her voice, reminding him of the power she had once wielded. “Gather our forces. We make our stand here.”

* * *

Shadow beasts pouredfrom the treeline, their forms mockeries of natural life. Wolves with too many eyes, birds that screamed with human voices, serpents made of living darkness. Behind them marched corrupted humans, their armor fused to flesh, weapons pulsing with sickly light.

Thorne fought at the forefront, his power blazing silver-bright against the encroaching dark. Beside him, guardian warriors wielded elements themselves: fire that burned corruption, water that cleansed, earth that rejected unnatural touch. Yet for every enemy that fell, two more took its place.

Briar darted through the chaos, their small form a blur of desperate energy. “Thorne! The western flank!”

He turned to see a group of corrupted dryads overwhelming their defenses. Their once-beautiful forms now twisted into thorny nightmares, they moved with deadly grace through their former sisters' attacks.

“Hold the center!” Thorne commanded, racing to reinforce the failing line.

The battle stretched into hours, each moment an eternity of violence and loss. Thorne's blade sang through the air, trailing silver light that burned corruption on contact. But exhaustion crept into his limbs, each swing slightly slower than the last.

A massive shape burst through the trees: a corrupted bear-spirit, its fur replaced by writhing shadows, eyes glowing with malevolent intelligence. It charged straight for the heart grove, for Elder Willow.

“No!” Thorne intercepted, meeting the creature's charge with a blast of pure forest magic. They collided with force that shook the ground, sending shockwaves through both physical and magical realms.

The bear-spirit's claws raked across Thorne's chest, leaving trails of burning corruption. He gritted his teeth against the pain, channeling healing energy even as he fought. Around them, the battle raged on, neither side gaining clear advantage.

“You cannot win,” the bear-spirit growled, its voice a grotesque parody of the noble being it had once been. “The shadow evolution comes for all. Even your precious Elder will fall.”

Thorne responded with actions rather than words, driving his energized blade deep into the creature's corrupted heart. It howled, dissolving into black mist that tried to seep into his wounds. He burned it away with effort that left him gasping.

Briar appeared at his side, their usual cheerfulness replaced by grim determination. “They keep coming. We're losing ground on all sides.”

Through gaps in the fighting, Thorne saw the truth of Briar's words. Guardian defenses buckled under relentless assault. Sacred trees fell, their ancient forms crashing to earth with sounds like thunder. Each loss weakened their magical network, making the survivors more vulnerable.

A corrupted guardian broke through their lines, heading straight for Elder Willow. Once proud antlers now dripped with black ichor, and eyes that had shone with wisdom held only madness. Thorne intercepted, their powers clashing in displays that lit the darkening sky.

“Brother,” Thorne called, seeking any trace of the being he'd known. “Fight it!”

“There is no fight,” the creature hissed. “Only evolution. Join us. Become more than you are.”

Their battle raged across the clearing, each strike shaking reality itself. The corrupted guardian fought with skill remembered from centuries of training, now twisted to serve darkness. Thorne matched him move for move, but felt his strength waning, the constant fighting taking its toll.

Lightning split the sky, not natural but born of clashing magics. The very air tasted of ozone and decay. Through their bond, Silas sent waves of support, but even that couldn't fully replenish what was being spent.

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