Page 22 of Eternal Thorns (The Feybound Chronicles #1)

21

LOVE AND FEAR

T he sacred grove hummed with their combined magic, twilight flowers turning their faces toward them like eager audiences. He should have been focusing on proper instruction, on maintaining safe distance.

But he found himself cataloging every detail of how Silas's brow furrowed in concentration, how his hands moved with unconscious grace through the patterns.

“The resonance needs to flow naturally,” Thorne explained, moving closer to adjust Silas's form. The moment their hands touched, silver sparks danced between them. “Forest magic wants to harmonize, but you have to listen for its patterns rather than imposing your own.”

Their magical signatures merged with dangerous ease, creating resonances far stronger than any simple teaching exercise should produce.

“Like this?” Silas asked, completing the gesture.

“Yes, exactly like-” Thorne's words cut off as their combined power surged unexpectedly. What should have been a basic illumination spell erupted into something far more profound.

Silver-gold light exploded through the grove, transforming everything it touched. The twilight flowers evolved years in moments, their ethereal blooms expanding and multiplying until the ground disappeared beneath carpets of luminous petals. Ancient trees shifted and grew, branches reaching toward each other to form naturally occurring archways. Even the protective wards responded, ancient symbols flaring to life along bark and stone.

He found himself drawing Silas closer, enchanted by how perfectly their powers flowed together.

Darkness gathered at the grove's edges, feeding on the very harmony it sought to corrupt. Thorne felt its hunger sharpen, its strength growing with each pulse of their combined magic.

“We should stop,” Thorne said, even as his traitor heart rebelled against the idea. “This level of resonance is dangerous.”

But Silas's fingers tightened around his, gray eyes meeting ancient green with startling intensity. “Or maybe this is exactly what we're supposed to be doing. Creating something new instead of maintaining old barriers.”

The Elder Willow's presence brushed Thorne's consciousness like autumn leaves. “He's not wrong,” she said softly. “Though the shadow entity grows stronger with your connection, so too does the potential for genuine healing.”

Thorne wanted to argue, to insist on maintaining safer distance. But watching Silas work so naturally with forest magic, seeing the pure joy their shared power created, made those cautious instincts feel hollow. The grove itself seemed to agree, responding to their combined presence with unprecedented vigor. New growth sprouted wherever their magic touched, ancient powers awakening after centuries of dormancy.

“Your magic is changing color,” Briar observed from her watchful perch.

Indeed, Thorne's usual silver had taken on warmer gold tones where it merged with Silas's power. Even his crown caught the light differently.

“The whole forest feels it,” a deep voice rumbled as Rowan materialized from a nearby oak.

“Silas, this is Rowan,” Thorne said, unable to keep the fondness from his voice. “My oldest friend and occasional conscience. He's been calling me out on my bullshit for about six centuries now.”

Rowan's moss armor clinked softly as he bowed, a gesture that managed to be both formal and slightly teasing. “Seven centuries, actually. And someone has to keep this dramatic fool from brooding himself into eternal winter.” His ancient eyes studied their joined hands with obvious approval. “Though it seems you're doing a far better job of that than I ever managed.”

“Rowan,” Thorne warned, but his friend just grinned.

“What? I'm simply observing how this resonance between you is affecting everything.” Rowan's expression softened. “It's good to see you like this again, old friend.”

Silas looked between them, clearly catching the weight of unspoken history. “Seven centuries?”

“Give or take a few decades,” Rowan shrugged. “Someone had to watch his back while he figured out this whole guardian business. Though I must say, in all that time, I've never seen him glow quite like this.”

“This level of connection makes us incredibly vulnerable. The shadow entity grows stronger with every moment we spend together.” Thorne admitted.

“But?” Silas prompted gently.

“But I can't bring myself to care.” The truth cost him nothing to admit, not when Silas looked at him the he was looking at him. “Let me show you something more advanced. If we're going to face this darkness together, you need to know how to properly defend yourself.”

Thorne moved behind Silas, chest pressed against his back as he guided his arms. “The key is channeling power through your core, like this.” His hands slid down Silas's sides, adjusting his stance. The simple touch sent sparks of magic dancing between them.

That dual awareness made his own concentration waver dangerously. Every shared breath, every small adjustment of position, carried dangerous intimacy.

“Focus on building layers, each shield should reinforce the others, creating depth of protection rather than just strength.”

Silas nodded, but his pulse jumped beneath Thorne's fingers where they rested at his wrists. Silas’ magical signature reached for him unconsciously, already harmonizing with his own in ways that made proper instruction increasingly difficult.

“Now for the complicated part.” Thorne turned Silas to face him, maintaining their close proximity. “This next form requires channeling magic together. It's traditionally used by guardians working in pairs, creating defenses that respond to both partners' needs.”

The moment their eyes met, Thorne knew they were in trouble. Professional distance crumbled completely as Silas's hands settled on his waist, magic swirling around them in steadily brightening spirals. Without conscious thought, Thorne found himself cradling Silas's face, thumb tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone.

Their combined power surged dangerously, responding to this moment of pure connection. Silver-gold light pulsed between them in impossible patterns.

The shadow entity's presence slammed into their magical bubble like arctic wind, attempting to corrupt their shared power. They stumbled apart quickly, both breathing hard. But the damage was already done - darkness gathered at the grove's edges, feeding greedily on the intensity of their connection.

“Fuck,” Thorne muttered, running a hand through his silver-white hair. “That wasn't supposed to happen.”

“Which part?” Silas asked. His slight smile suggested he knew exactly which part Thorne meant.

A surge of ancient power interrupted them as Oak Queen materialized from the nearest tree, her bark-skin form radiating urgency. Thorne had never seen the dryad queen leave her grove without formal invitation. Her presence here, uninvited and clearly distressed, sent cold dread through his chest.

“Guardian,” she said, dispensing with traditional greetings. “We have an emergency.” Her usually deep, steady voice cracked like splitting wood. “The shadow entity, it's changing. Not just gaining strength anymore - it's beginning to manifest physically throughout the forest. Taking shapes from memories, from fears, from both your minds.”

Cold dread settled in Thorne's stomach. “Show me.”

Rowan led them to the grove's edge where the damage was already visible. Plants withered and died before their eyes, magic turned sour and wrong in the soil. A young deer lay dead nearby, its body twisted by corruption that had nothing to do with natural decay.

“It started in small patches,” Rowan explained grimly. “Areas where the shadows seemed darker, where magic felt off. But it's spreading faster now, becoming more solid. The border guardians report seeing figures that shouldn't exist - lost travelers who never lived, versions of you from centuries ago, even manifestations of old grief given form.”

“This isn't just magical interference. It's like reality itself is being poisoned.” Thorne said.

“Yes.” Rowan's armor clinked as he shifted uneasily. “And it's getting worse. The dryads report their trees are beginning to sicken. Stone spirits find their crystals clouding with darkness. Even the eldest oaks show signs of corruption in their deepest roots.”

“It's feeding on us,” he said quietly.

Silas stood, moving closer until their hands brushed.

The simple touch sent another surge of power through the grove, making the shadow entity's darkness press harder against their defenses.

“The corruption spreads faster near places where you've worked magic together,” The Oak Queen observed. “But it also seems unable to fully manifest in those same locations. It's like your combined power both feeds and repels it.”

Thorne studied the patterns of decay, noting how they flowed around areas where his and Silas's magic had merged most strongly. “It wants to corrupt our connection because it can't quite touch it.”

“So we don't hide from this. We find a way to make our connection stronger than its corruption.” Silas said.

A sprite burst through the trees, its freckles pulsing with alarm. “Guardian! The border patrol reports shadow manifestations near Thornhaven Manor!”

Thorne's heart stuttered. Of course the entity would target there, where human and forest magic had begun intertwining again.

“Go,” Rowan said firmly. “We'll handle containment here.”

Thorne didn't wait for further discussion. He shadow-walked to the manor's edge, his form solidifying as he took in the scene. The protective wards he and Silas had so carefully strengthened now wavered under sustained assault. Darkness pressed against their defenses like oil through water, seeking weak points with terrible purpose.

Movement caught his eye - a figure that shouldn't exist stepping out of gathered shadow. Thorne's breath caught as Marcus's face emerged, but wrong, twisted. The apparition spoke with Thorne's own voice, using their shared memories with surgical precision.

“Still so desperate to protect what you love,” it mocked, wearing Marcus's gentle smile with cruel intention. “As if that ever ends well for you.”

“Fuck off,” Thorne snarled, power gathering around him like storm clouds. His crown of branches caught moonlight as he squared off against this perversion of memory.

The shadow construct's laugh held echoes of his own bitterness. “Such fire. Such determination to believe this time might be different.” It gestured toward the manor. “But we both know how this story ends, don't we? Love makes you vulnerable. Connection becomes weakness. Trust shatters into betrayal.”

Thorne felt a spike of fear that wasn't his own. Not fear of the shadow entity, but fear for Thorne himself. That selfless concern hit harder than any shadow's taunts.

“You still don't understand,” Thorne said quietly, power rippling beneath his skin. “Love isn't weakness. It's the one thing you can't fully corrupt, no matter how hard you try.”

The entity's response came as pure violence, shadow constructs launching themselves at the manor's wavering wards. Thorne countered instinctively, his magic meeting their assault. But instead of his usual frost and shadow, his power now carried warmth - gold threading through silver where thoughts of Silas influenced his spells.

The entity's response came as pure violence, shadow constructs launching themselves at the manor's wavering wards.

“Not this time,” Thorne snarled, his crown of branches catching moonlight as he met their assault. But instead of his usual frost and shadow, his power now carried warmth - gold threading through silver where thoughts of Silas influenced his spells.

The first wave hit like a physical force. Shadow constructs twisted into nightmare versions of forest spirits - corrupted dryads with bark-skin bleeding darkness, spectral wolves with starless voids for eyes.

“You think you can use my own forest against me?” Thorne's laugh held dangerous warmth as he wove complex defensive patterns. “I am not the same guardian you first corrupted.”

“You cannot protect what you cherish,” the entity mocked, wearing Marcus's voice. Dark tendrils probed the manor's defenses.

“Watch me.” Silver-gold magic spiraled from his hands, meeting each attack with precise force. “I spent centuries hiding behind cold and shadow. No more.”

The entity launched another wave, wearing Thorne's own face distorted by shadow. “Your love makes you vulnerable,” it snarled.

“My love makes me whole.” Thorne's response came as transformed light, his power no longer limited to frost and shadow. “Something you'll never understand.”

Gold threaded through his silver magic as he crafted counter-attacks. The twilight flowers around Thornhaven bloomed impossibly bright, responding to this evolution of their guardian's nature.

The entity's attacks grew more desperate. It pulled darkness from impossible spaces, crafting horrors that shouldn't exist outside nightmares.

“Is that really the best you can do?” Thorne taunted, meeting each assault with transformed power. “Recycling old nightmares? I've faced my shadows. Have you faced yours?”

He was reinforcing defenses and driving back shadow manifestations. Each ward he strengthened glowed with combined power, human craft and forest magic working in harmony just as he and Silas had designed them.

During a brief respite between attacks, Thorne found himself in a secluded alcove, forehead pressed against cool stone as he caught his breath. The shadow entity's words kept echoing in his mind, playing on every doubt and fear he'd carried for centuries.

But those fears felt hollow now, stripped of power by the simple truth of what he'd found with Silas. Their connection wasn't weakness, it was strength. The very thing that made them vulnerable also made them powerful enough to reshape reality itself.

The shadow entity gathered for another assault, its darkness taking new forms - twisted versions of both past and present, memories corrupted into weapons. But Thorne faced them with growing certainty.

Something shifted in the manor's magical resonance, catching Thorne's attention. The wards they'd created together weren't just holding against corruption - they were actively repelling it. Each

The entity's rage manifested as deeper darkness, but its attacks grew more desperate rather than stronger. Every display of authentic connection seemed to hurt it as much as it tried to hurt them. The shadow constructs wearing Marcus's face became less stable, their borrowed voices cracking with something that sounded almost like fear.

Something caught Thorne's attention. Each time they encountered a ward, they recoiled as if burned. Not just blocked, but actively harmed.

“You're not just corrupting love,” Thorne said softly, watching another construct dissolve when it touched their shared magic. “You're trying to destroy it completely. Because as long as genuine connection exists, you can never fully manifest.”

The entity's response came as pure rage, shadows coalescing into Marcus's form again. But the construct looked less stable now, edges blurring as if it couldn't quite maintain the shape. Its borrowed voice cracked with something beyond anger.

They'd been fighting this wrong from the start. They were trying to protect themselves from corruption instead of embracing exactly what the entity most feared.

Thorne shadow-walked back to the grove, his form solidifying beside Oak Queen. “Gather the council. All of them, even the seasonal lords who hate leaving their domains. And find Briar - I need her to deliver a message to Silas.”

The dryad queen studied his face. “You've discovered something.”

“Not discovered. Finally understood.” Power rippled beneath his skin, gold and silver light spiraling together. “We've been fighting this wrong from the start. Trying to contain corruption instead of facing what the entity truly fears.”

Oak Queen's bark-skin form shifted with interest. “And that is?”

“Choice.” Thorne's crown of branches caught moonlight as he began crafting the message for Silas. “The entity can corrupt emotion, twist memory, even poison magic itself. But it can't touch free will. Can't force choices that must be made willingly.”

“The prophecy spoke of choice,” she reminded him. “Though perhaps not quite as you're suggesting.”

“The prophecy can fuck right off.” Thorne's magic flared, making nearby shadows retreat. “This isn't about ancient predictions anymore. It's about deciding what we're willing to risk for the chance at something real.”

Briar materialized in a flash of sprite-light, her freckles pulsing with nervous energy. “You called, Guardian?”

“Take this to Silas.” Thorne pressed a spelled message into her hands, the parchment glowing with magic. “Make sure he understands - this has to be his choice. No prophecy or destiny forcing his hand.”

As Briar vanished with her mission, Thorne turned back to Oak Queen. The dryad's ancient eyes held surprising approval. “You're choosing a dangerous path.”

“No,” he corrected. “I'm choosing to let him choose. Whatever comes next has to be freely given on both sides.”