Page 93 of Shattered Crown

The grove felt empty after they left, despite those who remained. Thorne stood at the center of what had been the full council circle, now broken and incomplete. The weight of leadership pressed down on him like physical force.

“They'll come back,” Briar said hopefully, though tears still tracked down their face. “When they see we're stronger together...”

Silence followed, heavy as stone. The air itself felt still, as if the forest held its breath. Around them, the aftermath of the failed summit lay scattered — broken sigils, scorched earth, allies walking away in bitter silence. The fragile alliance they’d fought so hard to build was unraveling before their eyes.

Thorne closed his eyes, extending his awareness beyond the clearing. The song of the forest was fractured now, discordant notes rippling through the roots and branches. His enhanced senses stretched farther, and found only horror.

Sebastian had wasted no time exploiting their division. Corrupted forces surged into the newly isolated regions, overwhelming guardians stripped of the support the alliance once provided.

“We have to help them,” Moss-Walker urged, voice tight with urgency.

“We can't,” Thorne replied, hating the words even as he spoke them. “If we lower our defenses here, we lose everything.”

The decision tore at him, but strategic reality left no choice. He felt each loss as the isolated groves fell: ancient trees corrupted, guardian spirits destroyed or turned, sacred places defiled. The eastern groves went dark in his awareness, becoming dead zones in the forest network.

Hours passed in desperate defense as Sebastian pressed his advantage. Thorne coordinated remaining forces with newfound skill, but gaps in their coverage allowed corruption to seep deeper. What should have been impenetrable barriers failed systematically without unified guardian support.

Night fell, bringing no respite. If anything, the attacks intensified. Thorne stood atop the heart tree, power blazing around him as he fought to maintain coherence in the failing network. Every victory came at increasing cost as exhaustion mounted.

News arrived in fragments: three ancient groves lost completely, their magic now feeding Sebastian's growth. The northern border collapsed entirely. Corrupted creatures roamed freely through territories that hadn't known darkness in millennia.

Through it all, Thorne felt his connection to Silas growing more tenuous. His transformation had created a fundamental change in how he experienced reality. What once came naturally now required conscious effort. The human part of him, the part that loved Silas with simple devotion, seemed buried under layers of cosmic awareness.

He missed Elder Willow with an intensity that surprised him. Her wisdom, her stability, her ability to see beyond immediate crisis to longer patterns. Had she felt this alone? This separate from those she protected?

“You're drowning in it,” Briar observed, perching on a nearby root. “The vastness. Elder Willow warned me this would happen.”

“She spoke to you about this?”

Briar nodded, tears still glistening on their cheeks. “Said the hardest part wasn't gaining power, but learning to narrow focus again. To remember how to be small when everything in you has become large.”

The sprite's words struck deep. Thorne realized he'd been trying to process everything at once, to hold the entire forest's consciousness simultaneously. No wonder he felt overwhelmed.

“Help me,” he asked quietly. “Help me remember how to be... just Thorne.”

Briar took his hand, their small fingers warm against his transformed skin. “Close your eyes. Feel just this touch. Just this moment.”

It took effort, but gradually Thorne managed to pull back from the cosmic awareness, to focus on the simple sensation of Briar's hand in his. The relief was immediate, like surfacing from deep water.

“Better?” Briar asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” Thorne opened his eyes, seeing the grove with clearer vision. “We need to...”

His words cut off as magical alarms flared. Another attack, this one targeting the southern boundaries. He reached out instinctively, then remembered Briar's lesson and narrowed his focus to just the essential information.

“River, reinforce the southern springs,” he commanded. “Moss-Walker, shore up the root barriers.”

The remaining spirits moved to obey, their reduced numbers making the defense feel desperately thin. But at least Thorne could think clearly now, could strategize without drowning in sensory overload.

Word had reached the palace about the guardian civil conflict. Nobles who opposed the alliance used it as evidence that cooperation was impossible. Thorne sensed Silas fighting to maintain support, but skepticism grew like poison in the human court.

“We're losing on all fronts,” River reported, her usual melody replaced by discordant notes. “The corruption adapts faster than we can counter. Without the full network...”

She didn't need to finish. They all understood. Thorne's transformation, meant to strengthen their position, had instead created new vulnerabilities. His enhanced power meant little with the guardian network fractured beyond repair.

A familiar presence approached the heart grove. Ironbark had returned, but not in submission. His group had swelled with guardians who abandoned the central grove as situation deteriorated.

“We're leaving,” Ironbark announced. “This forest is lost. We'll establish a new grove elsewhere, beyond corruption's reach.”

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