Page 55 of Eternal Thorns

As midnight deepened toward dawn, they reluctantly acknowledged the need to leave the sacred chamber. But stepping back into the forest proved an unexpected extension of their connection rather than an end to it.

“This way,” Thorne said softly, leading Silas along hidden paths that seemed to form beneath their feet. His crown of twisted branches caught starlight as he moved, making him look like something from ancient legend come to life.

They found themselves stopping frequently to examine interesting phenomena, trading observations about the forest's health that felt more like shared discovery than formal instruction.

“The twilight flowers here are struggling,” Silas noted, kneeling beside a patch of luminous blooms. “Something's blocking their connection to the deeper magical currents.”

“Yes, I've been worried about that.” Thorne knelt beside him, their shoulders brushing. “The shadow entity's influence has been particularly strong in this area.”

Working together, they traced the magical blockage to its source and began carefully clearing it. Their powers merged naturally, Silas's insight complementing Thorne's experience. When the flowers began glowing more brightly, their shared satisfaction flowed warm through their connection.

“You know,” Kai commented, walking a respectful distance behind them, “when Agnes said you might heal the breach between realms, I don't think this is quite what she meant.”

“The best plans are often the unexpected ones,” Thorne said, his voice carrying that gentle tone that made Silas's heart skip. Then, more quietly, “I never thought I could trust like this again.”

Their hands brushed again as they examined a particularly interesting pattern of magical decay. Neither pulled away. Through their bond, Silas felt Thorne's lingering amazement at how easy this felt - sharing not just magic but perspective, working together without fear or suspicion.

“Guardian?” Briar's voice came from a nearby tree, her freckles pulsing with excited light. “The Elder Willow wants to know if she should start planning a handfasting ceremony or if you two are going to keep pretending this is just about magical theory?”

“Briar!” Thorne's form flickered slightly with embarrassment, but his hand remained steady where it touched Silas's.

“Oh! Right!” The sprite darted closer, her glow brightening with mischief. “We haven't done proper introductions. I'm Briar, the Guardian's apprentice and general annoyance. He's been teaching me forest magic for what, three centuries now?”

“Four,” Thorne corrected automatically, then caught himself at her knowing grin.

“Four centuries,” Briar continued, circling them both, “and I have never, not once, seen him like this. Usually he'sall 'maintain proper distance' and 'formal protocols must be observed' and 'Briar, stop turning the mushroom circles into dance floors.'”

Her freckles strobed faster as she studied them. “But look at him now! Actually touching someone voluntarily! Smiling! I didn't even know his face could do that anymore.”

“That's enough,” Thorne growled, but there was no real heat in it. Through their connection, Silas felt the guardian's mix of embarrassment and reluctant amusement.

“And his true form!” Briar spun in excited circles. “Do you know how long I've been trying to get him to stop hiding behind all that frost and shadow? Centuries of 'it's more appropriate for a guardian to maintain dignified distance' and you manage it in one night with some hand-holding and meaningful looks.”

“I do not hold hands,” Thorne protested, despite clear evidence to the contrary.

“Sure, and those aren't heart-shapes appearing in your magical patterns right now.” Briar's glow took on a decidedly smug tinge. “Face it, Guardian, you're absolutely smitten. And it's about time.”

The sprite darted over to Silas, her expression turning suddenly serious. “You better be worth all this, by the way. He's been miserable for centuries and if you hurt him, I know exactly which mushrooms cause the most embarrassing rashes.”

“Briar,” Thorne's voice carried warning, but Silas felt the surge of affection he held for his apprentice.

“Just saying what everyone's thinking,” she chirped, then spun back toward the trees. “I'll let the Elder Willow know the handfasting is definitely on. Maybe in the twilight grove? The flowers there are already responding to your magical googly-eyes at each other.”

She vanished in a flash of light, leaving Thorne looking simultaneously mortified and fond. “I apologize for her...everything,” he said. “Four centuries of training and she still has the subtlety of a charging deer.”

“I like her,” Silas said, squeezing Thorne's hand. “She clearly cares about you. And she's not wrong though,” Silas added quietly. “About this being more than just magical theory.”

Thorne's true form shimmered in response, his crown of branches catching starlight. “No,” he agreed softly. “She's not wrong about that at all.”

19

DANGEROUS HEARTS

Thorne paced his sacred grove, trying and failing to dissolve back into his usual ethereal state. His form remained stubbornly solid, skin still warm from where Silas had touched him. Every attempt to fade into shadow met resistance, as if his body remembered what it felt like to be seen and refused to hide again.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, catching himself touching his cheek where Silas's fingers had traced the luminous patterns. The contact point tingled with remembered warmth, sending ripples through the surrounding forest magic.

The twilight flowers around him pulsed in perfect rhythm with his unsettled emotions. Their soft light caught the silver markings across his skin. Even his crown of twisted branches refused to fade, marking him unmistakably as something more than just the stern guardian he'd portrayed for centuries.

---