Page 99 of Shattered Crown

From her saddlebags, she produced leather-wrapped packages. Ancient scrolls and books emerged, their pages crackling with age and latent power.

“These belong here,” she said, offering them to Thorne. “Knowledge that should never have been separated from its source.”

Thorne accepted the packages with trembling hands. As he touched them, the documents seemed to respond, glowing faintly with recognition.

Through combined efforts, they established temporary stability in the heart grove. Nathaniel worked with Eliar to reinforce magical barriers while others organized patrols and supply lines. Lady Evangeline moved among them with surprising familiarity, offering suggestions that revealed deep knowledge of forest magic.

“Your grandmother is not what she seems,” Eliar murmured to Silas as they worked.

“I'm beginning to realize that,” Silas replied, watching her demonstrate a warding technique to Lyra that looked suspiciously like guardian magic.

The collaborative effort helped Thorne begin processing his new role. With each person who treated him as himself rather than a cosmic entity, he seemed to ground more firmly in his identity.

“This is what we need,” Eliar explained as they strengthened wards. “Not isolation, but integration. The old ways failed because they forgot this truth.”

* * *

As night fell,the insidious whispers began. But something else happened too. As Lady Evangeline worked alongside the forest spirits, teaching and learning in equal measure, the whispers seemed to falter around her.

“They can't find purchase,” Nathaniel observed. “Her certainty confounds them.”

“It's more than that,” Thorne said, his voice carrying new understanding. “She's not fighting the whispers. She's accepting them and moving forward anyway. The Shadowblight doesn't know what to do with that.”

Lady Evangeline overheard and smiled. “When you've lived as long as I have, you learn that guilt and regret are poor advisors. Better to acknowledge mistakes and work to correct them.”

She approached Thorne again as the others continued their preparations. “May I speak with you privately?”

They moved to a quieter corner of the grove. Silas started to follow, but his grandmother shook her head slightly. This was between her and Thorne.

From a distance, Silas watched them talk. He couldn't hear the words, but he saw the intensity of the conversation. Lady Evangeline gestured emphatically at times, while Thorne listened with growing attention. At one point, she produced something from her sleeve—a small object that made Thorne recoil, then lean forward with interest.

When they returned, both looked changed. Thorne seemed more settled, more present. Lady Evangeline's usual mask of political calculation had softened into something more genuine.

“What did she say to you?” Silas asked Thorne later, as they prepared for the night vigil.

“She told me about the weight of choices,” Thorne replied. “About living with consequences, intended and otherwise. About finding strength in connection rather than isolation.” He paused. “And she gave me this.”

He opened his hand to reveal a small crystal, multifaceted and gleaming with inner light.

“It belonged to Starweaver,” Thorne explained. “She's kept it all these years. Said it was time it returned home.”

The crystal pulsed gently, resonating with Thorne's transformed energy. Through their bond, Silas felt its significance—not just as an artifact, but as a symbol of continuity, of bridges rebuilt.

Lady Evangeline's presence continued to ripple through the camp. She shared meals with guardian spirits who days ago would have fled from any human. She debated magical theory with Eliar, their discussion drawing fascinated listeners. She even managed to make Briar laugh—a sound that hadn't been heard since Elder Willow's passing.

“I underestimated her,” Thorne admitted to Silas as they settled for their night vigil. “I saw only the political player, not the woman who'd spent decades working toward this moment.”

“She's full of surprises,” Silas agreed. “I'm still processing the fact that my grandmother apparently had a childhood crush on an ancient forest guardian.”

Thorne's laugh was soft but genuine—the first real laugh since his transformation. “According to her, Starweaver was known for his charm.”

They fell into comfortable silence, their bodies close but not quite touching. The transformation had changed the nature of their physical relationship, but not its depth. Energy flowed between them in new patterns, creating intimacy beyond the purely physical.

“She helped me understand something,” Thorne said eventually. “About the difference between bearing responsibility and being crushed by it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Elder Willow carried the weight of the forest, but she didn't let it define her entirely. She found joy in small things—Briar's antics, new growth in spring, the way sunlight filtered through leaves.” Thorne's hand found Silas's, their joined fingers sparking with shared energy. “Your grandmother reminded me that keeping those connections, those moments of lightness, isn't a betrayal of duty. It's what makes duty bearable.”

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