Page 26 of Eternal Thorns (The Feybound Chronicles #1)
25
CORRUPTION'S HEART
C onsciousness returned to Thorne like shattered glass being pieced together, each fragment cutting deeper than the last. The corruption flowing through his veins transformed everything it touched, turning his ethereal nature into something terrible and wrong. His crown of branches, once silver-bright with starlight, now dripped shadows thick as tar.
Where luminous patterns had traced his skin like flowing moonlight, sickly dark light pulsed instead. The shadow entity used his power with cruel precision, wielding centuries of knowledge to spread corruption through the forest he'd sworn to protect. Every tree touched by his twisted magic transformed, becoming beautiful in ways that hurt to witness.
This is what you are now, the entity whispered, using his own voice. This is what choice and sacrifice have made you.
“I chose this,” Thorne snarled back, though the words tasted like corrupted magic. “My sacrifice, my choice. You can't twist that.”
Every memory of him makes us stronger.
“Then feed on it,” Thorne challenged through waves of corruption.
The entity seized his thoughts with cruel precision, forcing him to relive every precious moment. Silas's hand in his during lessons. Their first kiss tasting of moonlight and ancient magic. The way their bond had hummed with constant awareness.
“You think these hurt me?” Thorne's laugh held both shadow and light. “Every memory strengthens my choice. Every moment proves what I protected.”
You did this to save him, sacrificed everything to protect what you loved most. And now that very love feeds the darkness you fought.
“And I'd do it again.” The words carried absolute truth despite his corrupted form. “A thousand times over. That's what terrifies you, isn't it? That even corrupted, I don't regret choosing love.”
Physical corruption was nothing compared to this emotional battle. Thorne felt his very essence being transformed, yet something at his core remained untouchable. His magic might spread poison now, but his heart stayed true to its choice.
Your love burns so bright it makes the darkness deeper.
“You still don't understand.” Even through waves of corruption, Thorne's voice held centuries of certainty. “My love isn't your weapon. It's your weakness. Because I chose this knowing the cost. And that kind of willing sacrifice? That's something you can never corrupt.”
Through corrupted veins, Thorne felt his magic being twisted to new purpose. Ancient knowledge accumulated over centuries now served to spread shadow faster, his intimate understanding of forest paths creating perfect routes for poison.
His form shifted constantly, no longer the fluid grace of before but violent transformation that hurt to witness. The entity wore his shape like an ill-fitting coat, using his appearance to cause maximum pain to any who witnessed what their guardian had become.
They flee from your approach now . Those you protected for centuries run from what love has made you.
“Let them run,” Thorne challenged, though each frightened face cut deep. “Better they fear me than fall to your corruption.”
Still pretending this sacrifice serves some greater good?
“Not pretending anything.” Even through waves of darkness, the truth burned in his heart: He would choose this again. Would take corruption into himself a thousand times to keep Silas safe.
“You can't twist what's freely given,” he snarled as the entity pressed harder against his certainty. “My choice. My sacrifice. My love.”
Love? You think this protects him? Your sacrifice only delays the inevitable.
Fear spiked through Thorne's fractured consciousness. “He won't-”
He won't what? Abandon you to darkness? Leave you to your noble sacrifice? You know him better than that. Know his heart better than that.
“Stay away from him,” Thorne growled, his corrupted form flickering with protective rage.
Yes, feel that terror. That desperate need to protect even now.
“You still don't understand,” Thorne managed through waves of darkness. “Even this fear - this need to protect him - comes from love. And real love? That's something you can never truly corrupt.”
Thorne's twisted form manifested the entity's satisfaction, sickly light pulsing through darkened veins. His once-ethereal beauty now served only to make the wrongness more profound, like a beloved painting seen through shattered glass.
But underneath it all, deeper than even shadow could reach, a spark remained. Not magic or memory but something far more fundamental. The simple truth that had driven him to sacrifice everything.
Some loves were worth any price they demanded. Some choices had to be made knowing exactly what they would cost.
The entity's laughter echoed through his corrupted form, using his voice to mock such dedication. But even as darkness consumed him further, Thorne held onto that one pure truth.
Some prices were worth paying. Some loves transcended even the shadows born from their sacrifice.
The shadow entity wore his voice like a stolen cloak, using it to twist through his memories. “Remember how it felt?” it asked, showing him Marcus's betrayal overlaid with images of Silas.
The visions crashed through Thorne's fractured consciousness. Marcus turning away, choosing power over partnership. But when the entity tried to corrupt his memories of Silas, something unexpected happened. Those moments burned too bright, too pure to be fully tainted.
Silas's wonder at first touching forest magic. His fierce determination to understand rather than control. The way he'd looked at Thorne like he was something precious rather than just powerful.
The entity's rage manifested as deeper corruption, black veins spreading through what remained of Thorne's ethereal form. “These memories should break you,” it snarled, still using his voice. “Should poison everything you are.”
Instead, thoughts of Silas created points of light the shadow couldn't quite touch. The entity forced him to watch as his corrupted power spread through the forest, transforming his realm of beauty into nightmare. Ancient trees twisted into new shapes, their natural magic turned wrong. Flowers bloomed black as starless night, beautiful and terrible and wrong.
Through his remaining connection to the forest, Thorne felt his guardians retreat. Border spirits fled from his approach, tree shepherds withdrew their roots from soil his corruption touched. Even the stone lords, typically immovable as mountains, pulled their power back from areas his darkness claimed.
They abandon you. Everything you protected for centuries now runs from what love has made you.
But something cut through the shadow's voice - a sensation that made Thorne's corrupted heart stutter. Through the last trace of their severed bond came a feeling that burned brighter than any darkness.
Silas was coming for him.
The entity seized on this immediately, cruel anticipation rippling through Thorne's twisted form. “Perfect,” it purred. “He comes to save what corruption has claimed.”
Terror gave Thorne strength to fight against the shadow's hold. He had to warn Silas, had to somehow convey the danger. But corruption ran too deep, twisting every attempt at communication into darkness.
Even now, corrupted and claimed, you try to protect him. But that very devotion will be his undoing.
The shadow began gathering power, using Thorne's intimate knowledge of forest paths to prepare its trap. Every defense he'd created over centuries, every secret way through the grove, now served to endanger the one he loved most.
Shall we show him what love has made you? Let him see his precious guardian transformed by the very connection he thought would save you both?
His beloved twilight flowers, once sources of pure illumination, now bloomed with poisonous beauty. Their light drew wandering spirits like moths to flame, trapping them in corruption's embrace. Where their glow had once guided lost travelers safely home, it now lured them deeper into darkness.
“Watch what your power truly becomes,” the entity whispered through his lips. “See how much stronger magic grows when freed from conscience.”
His connection to forest spirits, meant to protect and guide, became a tool for corruption. Young sprites who had once danced in his grove now fled screaming as his twisted influence reached for them. Those too slow to escape transformed into shadow versions of themselves, their light turned to terrible purpose.
The entity used his intimate knowledge of each guardian, each ancient ally, to break their defenses. Tree shepherds he'd known for centuries watched in horror as corruption spread through their roots. Stone lords retreated deeper into crystal hearts as darkness claimed their outer layers.
Each perversion of his gifts brought fresh agony, which the shadow entity devoured eagerly. Pain became power became greater corruption in an endless cycle.
His sacrifice hadn't just given the entity access to his power, it had created a direct link to its core. While corruption flowed one way, understanding flowed the other.
He felt the shadow's true nature. Sensed its deepest fears beneath the surface of its apparent triumph. The entity wasn't just corruption given form; it was the very essence of love denied, connection twisted, truth rejected.
The insight cost him immediately. Fresh waves of darkness crashed through his consciousness, punishment for daring to understand. But the knowledge remained, burning like a coal in his corrupted heart: the shadow feared true connection precisely because it couldn't corrupt it completely.
“Shall we test that theory?” the entity snarled, forcing him to watch another wave of corruption spread through his realm. “Let's see how well your pure memories stand against this.”
It threw the worst combinations at him - Marcus's betrayal overlaid with visions of Silas corrupted, every moment of shared wonder turned to poison. But something in Thorne's core refused to break. His memories of Silas remained untainted through sheer stubborn will.
“Your dedication is admirable,” the entity mocked, using his voice to twist praise into poison. “But ultimately futile. When he comes for you - and he will come - these precious pure memories will be his undoing.”