Page 37 of Shattered Crown
“To Nathaniel, then,” he decided. “We need allies for what's coming.”
As they prepared to leave the battlefield, Silas felt the weight of destiny settling around him. Not the destiny his father had planned, but something older, truer. He touched the crystal one more time, drawing strength from the bond that had survived even this.
The real hunt, he realized, was just beginning.
9
SHATTERED BONDS
The world swayed like a ship in storm as Thorne stumbled through the corrupted remains of the royal forest. Each step sent shockwaves through his depleted essence, his form flickering between solid flesh and wisps of shadow. Silas's arm around his waist was the only anchor keeping him from dissolving completely.
“Almost there,” Silas murmured, his voice tight with worry. “Just a little further.”
Thorne wanted to respond, to reassure his love that he would endure, but speech required more energy than he could spare. The battle with King Thomas had cost him centuries of accumulated power. Being separated from the Eldergrove for so long had left him vulnerable, like a fish pulled from water, gasping for something essential.
Diana led their battered group through the main forest paths, her sword still drawn against possible pursuit. The guard captain moved with practiced caution, checking corners and shadows with the paranoia of someone who had survived too many betrayals. Behind them, the royal forest writhed in the aftermath of their confrontation, twisted magic slowly unraveling now that the king's influence had been broken.
“Where the hell is Kai?” Silas asked suddenly, looking around. “He was right behind us during the fight.”
Diana glanced back, her scarred face grim. “That friend of yours? Haven't seen him since the chaos started.”
“Shit,” Silas muttered.
“We can't wait,” Diana had stated firmly, her voice cutting through the tense air. “My safehouse isn't far. Standard guard protocol for situations like these.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Though I doubt the manual covers magical forest spirits and shadow entities.”
Silas adjusted his grip as Thorne’s legs threatened to give way again. The mention of standard protocols felt absurd given the chaos swirling around them – magical spirits, shadow entities, fleeing for their lives. The sheer danger intensified his worry for the one person not with them, the one most vulnerable. “And my father?” Silas asked, his voice strained under Thorne's weight and his own anxiety. “The King... is he safe? Is he receiving the treatment he needs?”
Diana’s sharp gaze met his for a moment, a flicker of understanding in her eyes before she resumed scanning their surroundings. “I know those who have him,” she replied, her tone low but firm, meant for his ears alone. “They will take the utmost care of him. Your father is in safe hands, Silas,” she assured him. “Believe me, they won't let any of Sebastian's forces get near him.” While the certainty in her voice offered a sliver of comfort, the knot of worry in Silas's gut remained.
The safe house appeared like a blessing, an unremarkable building tucked between two abandoned merchants' shops. Diana knocked a complex pattern on the door, which opened to reveal a nervous guard who quickly ushered them inside. The moment they crossed the threshold, Thorne felt the magical wards close around them. They blocked detection but also cut him off from the natural energy he desperately needed.
His knees gave out completely.
“Shit!” Silas caught him, lowering him carefully to the floor. “Thorne? Stay with me.”
The room spun as Thorne's consciousness fragmented. Parts of him tried to drift back to the Eldergrove, seeking the familiar embrace of ancient trees and deep roots. Other fragments scattered like leaves in wind, too exhausted to maintain cohesion. Only Silas's touch, warm and insistent against his fading skin, kept him from dispersing entirely.
“We need to get him outside,” a familiar voice said. Elena burst into the room with Briar close behind, both carrying armfuls of potted plants and fresh-cut branches. “The wards are suffocating him.”
“How did you find us?” Diana demanded, hand moving to her sword hilt.
“I have my ways,” Elena replied tersely. “The hedge witch network knows every safehouse in the kingdom. We've been tracking you since the battle.” She turned to Thorne, her expression grave. “Now help me move him before he dissolves completely.”
Diana hesitated only a moment before nodding. Whatever her reservations about the witch's methods, Thorne's condition left no room for argument.
Briar's usual mischievous energy had vanished, replaced by naked fear as she saw her mentor's condition. “I've never seen him like this,” she whispered, her glowing freckles dim with distress. “Not even after the Battle of Thornbreak Ridge.”
They half-carried, half-dragged Thorne to the small garden behind the safe house. It was a pitiful substitute for the Eldergrove, just a few ornamental trees and flower beds, but it was better than nothing. Elena and Briar worked frantically, transplanting their brought greenery and coaxing dormant plants to life.
Thorne felt the first trickle of energy seep into him as his fingers touched living soil. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough, but it kept him from fading completely. He managed to solidify enough to sit upright, though his edges remained blurred, bleeding into the shadows around him.
“Better?” Silas asked, kneeling beside him with one hand on his shoulder.
Thorne nodded weakly, not trusting his voice. He felt Silas's fear and determination warring with exhaustion. His lover had been strong for so long, carrying burdens that would have crushed lesser men. Thorne wanted nothing more than to pull Silas into his arms and offer comfort, but he could barely maintain his own form.
“The Eldergrove needs me,” Thorne rasped, his voice like wind through dead leaves. “Without its guardian, the forest dies.”
“You're in no condition to travel,” Elena countered, hands still green from working with plants. “You need at least a day to recover.”
