Page 92 of Shattered Crown
The transformation accelerated, remaking Thorne from the inside out. His consciousness expanded further, touching every corner of the Eldergrove, feeling the corruption as personal wounds. Power surged through him like lightning seeking ground, bones burning with starlight, blood replaced by streams of pure energy. The process wasn't gentle but a violent rebirth that tore screams from his throat.
When the light finally dimmed, Thorne stumbled, catching himself against the empty tree that had housed Elder Willow. His hands pressed against bark that now felt like an extension of himself. Every root, every blade of grass, every microscopic organism in the soil spoke to him, sang to him, was him.
He had changed fundamentally. His form remained recognizable but refined, as if carved from moonlight and starshine. Silver patterns traced his skin like living tattoos, pulsing with the forest's heartbeat. The weight of Elder Willow's memories settled into his mind: millennia of wisdom, joy, and sorrow now his to bear.
“Thorne?” Briar's voice trembled with grief and awe.
He turned to face the sprite, seeing them with new eyes that perceived beyond physical form. Briar's essence blazed like a small sun, their sorrow a visible cloud of blue-gray energy. The sight should have been beautiful, but it only emphasized how different everything had become.
The forest shuddered violently. Without Elder Willow's stabilizing presence, magical feedback created chaos throughout the network. Ancient trees thrashed as if caught in a hurricane, their branches cracking and falling. Streams overflowed their banks, water running uphill in defiance of natural law. The defensive wards flickered like dying flames.
“Hold together,” Thorne commanded, instinctively reaching out with his new power. But the forest network resisted, unused to his touch, grieving the loss of its longtime heart.
“You dare claim her place?” Ironbark's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
The ancient spirit emerged from the shadows, his bark-like skin dark with age and rigid with disapproval. Behind him stood other council members, their expressions ranging from skeptical to openly hostile.
“I claim nothing,” Thorne replied, fighting to keep his voice steady as power coursed through him in unfamiliar patterns. “Elder Willow chose this path.”
“She chose wrong.” Ironbark's words fell like stones. “A guardian bound to human flesh cannot lead us. Your divided loyalty will doom us all.”
“My connection to Silas...”
“Is precisely the problem.” Ironbark gestured to the chaos around them. “See how the forest rejects you? It knows what you refuse to admit. You are tainted.”
Other voices joined the dissent. Mountain Heart rumbled about tradition violated. Wind whispered of ancient prophecies ignored. Even some who had supported Thorne initially now wavered, fear overtaking reason as their world shifted beneath them.
“The corruption presses our borders as we speak,” Thorne argued. “We need unity, not division.”
“Unity under proper leadership,” Ironbark countered. He raised his arms, and Thorne felt the guardian attempting to block his connection to the forest network. Others joined the effort, their combined will creating barriers between Thorne and the power he'd inherited.
Pain lanced through him as connections severed. The sensation was like having limbs torn away, leaving phantom aches where wholeness had been moments before. The forest's chaos intensified as competing wills fought for control.
Thorne faced a choice: force compliance through raw power or find another way. The energy within him begged for release, promising easy dominance if he would only unleash it. But that path led to tyranny, not leadership.
Instead, he opened himself completely to the network, sharing not commands but vision. Images flowed from his consciousness: guardians and humans fighting side by side, corruption pushed back by combined strength, a future where isolation gave way to cooperation.
Some responded positively. River’s watery form shimmered with understanding. Moss-Walker stepped forward in quiet support. But Ironbark and his followers remained unmoved.
“Pretty dreams from a pretty puppet,” Ironbark sneered. “We need action, not fantasy.”
The council split before Thorne's eyes. Traditionalists gathered behind Ironbark while others moved to Thorne's side. The division created visible fractures in the magical fabric of the grove, golden light separating into distinct streams that refused to merge.
“You're tearing us apart,” Briar cried, darting between the factions. “Elder Willow wanted us united!”
“Elder Willow is gone,” Ironbark stated flatly. “Her judgment failed at the last. We must correct her mistake.”
Thunder rolled overhead, though no storm clouds gathered. The sound came from the forest itself, expressing distress as they turned against each other. Sebastian's corruption pressed harder at the borders, sensing weakness.
Thorne made a decision that felt like cutting out his own heart. With precise application of power, he isolated the rebellious sections of the forest network. The action protected loyal areas but left separated groves vulnerable, their defenses significantly weakened.
“What have you done?” Ironbark demanded as magical barriers rose between the factions.
“What I must to prevent total collapse.” Thorne's voice carried new authority, though it cost him to use it. “You are free to go. But you will not drag the entire forest down with your stubbornness.”
The words hung in air that crackled with tension. Several guardians who had been wavering chose sides, some joining Ironbark's exodus, others remaining with Thorne. Each departure felt like another wound.
“You've doomed us all,” Ironbark declared as he led his followers away. “When the corruption takes you, remember this moment.”
