Page 70 of Eternal Thorns

“You…okay?” Thorne asked after a moment, his voice low and rough.

Silas let out a breathless laugh, his hand coming up to thread through Thorne’s hair. “More than okay. Fucking perfect.”

Thorne’s lips brushed against Silas’s temple in a gesture so tender it made his chest ache. Silas closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the warmth of their connection. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt whole.

He looked up and saw that the moon was full through the grove's canopy, its silver light catching on Thorne's crown ofbranches where they lay tangled together on the forest floor. The sight made his heart clench - only days remained until the deadline. Until he had to choose whether to step into the forest willingly for judgment, or wait for the grove to claim what it was owed.

The guardian's form shifted between shadow and substance against Silas's bare skin, but his arms tightened around him, as if already dreading having to let go.

“When you gave me that ultimatum,” Silas murmured, tracing patterns on Thorne's chest where starlight met shadow, “did you ever think we'd end up here?”

“No.” Thorne's voice was rough with emotion. “I thought I was giving you time to understand your family's crimes. Instead...” He pressed another kiss to Silas's temple. “Instead you made me understand something far more dangerous.”

“What's that?”

“That some risks are worth taking.” His ethereal nature solidified further, anchoring them both in this stolen moment. “Some choices matter more than ancient grudges.”

The key pulsed warm between their pressed bodies, counting down heartbeats until judgment day. But here, wrapped in each other's embrace, even fate seemed less important than what they'd found in each other.

23

SHADOW’S RISE

Thorne paced the council grove's perimeter as ancient spirits materialized from tree and stone. The dryad queens arrived first, their bark-skin bearing visible decay. Stone Lord followed, his crystalline body clouded with seeping darkness. Even Frost Lord emerged from his icy domain, frost patterns distorted by shadow.

“The border wards are failing faster than we can repair them,” Oak Queen reported, her deep voice cracking like splitting wood. “The corruption spreads through root systems now, poisoning connections we've maintained for centuries.”

He felt Silas approaching the grove, his magic reaching for him automatically.

“Your human arrives,” Rowan observed dryly. “Try not to let your magic do that glowing thing. It's undignified for an ancient guardian.”

His power had already started spiraling outward, responding to Silas's presence like flowers tracking sun.

When Silas entered the grove, Thorne's breath caught despite his best efforts at maintaining professional distance.

“Show them,” Silas said without preamble.

The council stirred as Silas approached one of Thorne's prized twilight flowers. He touched its luminous petals and darkness spread, transforming the bloom into something terrible and beautiful at once. Its petals turned black as starless sky but retained their ethereal glow.

“That's not normal corruption.” Rowan observed.

“No,” Silas agreed quietly. “The shadow entity has learned to use our own power against us. When I touch forest magic now, it mimics my magical signature. Uses my connection to Thorne to spread faster.”

Thorne felt Silas's pain at being turned into a weapon against everything they sought to protect. Without conscious thought, he moved closer, his hand finding Silas's and squeezing gently.

“It's getting stronger,” Stone Lord rumbled, his crystalline form catching corrupted light. “Taking physical shape now, wearing faces from memory.”

“Not just memory,” Thorne corrected grimly. “Desire. Fear. Whatever will hurt most in the moment.” His free hand rose to touch his crown of branches, remembering how the entity had worn Marcus's face while speaking with his own voice. “It knows things it shouldn't be able to know. Feels things it shouldn't be able to feel.”

The council erupted in concerned discussion, ancient spirits shifting between forms as they argued about containment and protection. But through it all, Thorne remained achingly aware of Silas's hand in his, of how their magic harmonized even in this moment of crisis.

Thorne moved closer, his hand finding Silas's instinctively.

“Show them the other thing,” Thorne said softly.

This time when Silas touched another flower, their combined magic flowed openly. The corruption was both more violent and more beautiful.

Thorne felt his own magic respond to those words, power rippling beneath his skin in dangerous patterns. Every moment of pure connection between them made their enemy stronger. Yet those same moments created something the entity couldn't fully corrupt.

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