The ink bled slowly across the parchment.
Vanith leaned over the desk. Behind him, clerks scurried around their desks littered with fresh scrolls and wax seals. Soldiers lined the walls, waiting, rigid in their armor.
"Distribute this across the city," Vanith commanded in his deep and measured voice. "Every district, every gate. Triple the guards at the bridges. I want posters in every tavern before dusk. See that he's captured at all costs."
A clerk lifted the paper, his lips moving as he read:
Wanted.
Male. Early twenties. Height above average. Dark disheveled hair. Face marred with scars. Left eye wounded. Last seen approaching through the rear castle wing. Dangerous. Approach with caution.
Reward: 20,000 coins.
No name. Only an image of a hollow-eyed man staring, drawn hastily by a court artist.
Vanith's jaw tightened. He watched as the clerks scuttled away, their arms filled with notices.
For a moment, the chamber was quiet. He let out a heavy breath and rubbed the scar across his cheek.
Too close. He slipped through too easily. And yet… letting the Princess see him was valuable In its own way.
His eyes narrowed, a shadow flickering across his face. A thousand recollections of the past weaved their way into his head. The hollow quiet of an empty hearth, the silence where laughter should have been…
Later that day, Vanith stood at the Generals' Table, his hands resting firmly on the table.
"We are hunting a man," General Hadrek said flatly, his voice laced with irritation. "One man. Not an army, not a rebellion. A man. You owe us more than vague commands."
Other generals shifted in their seats, murmuring.
Lady Althea's eyes were sharp. "You call him dangerous, but danger how? To whom?"
Vanith's expression remained calm.
"He poses a significant risk to the stability of his nation," he said evenly. "That is all you need to know."
The silence that followed was heavy. Suspicion crackled in the air like static.
Hadrek leaned forward. "Your voice is not enough for me."
Vanith's gaze cut across the table. "Then you will have to learn to live with it. I do not seek your approval. I give you orders. Follow them."
A tense pause.
No one moved to challenge him directly. Even Lord Hadrek shriveled in his seat for a moment.
But the look in their eyes said enough: doubt, unease, and something darker…
The mood in Solane's room was just as heavy.
She sat by the window, brushing her fingers absently against the sill, while Renna fussed about, laying down fresh linens and pouring tea into the cup.
"So you're telling me," Renna said slowly, "you saw him in your dream before you saw him in your room?"
Solane nodded faintly. Her voice was quiet. "It felt too real to be a dream. The hall of mirrors, the whispers… and then he appeared. Furthermore, I could have sworn… for a moment, I saw Calen in his eyes."
Renna sat down on the edge of the bed, folding her arms. "Calen? Now that's a stretch. It seems your heart is already tangled in this..."
"It wasn't just a likeness," Solane murmured. "It was… something beneath. Something that tugged at me. Something which differentiated him from Calen. He carries something different, which I don't understand."
Renna tilted her head. Her tone softened. "You've been carrying too much, Your Highness. Sometimes, when you want to see someone badly enough, your heart paints them onto someone else. Doesn't mean they're truly there."
Solane gave her a faint smile. "You sound jealous."
Renna snorted. "Of him? Please. The only thing I'm jealous of is that Sir Ian's eyes keep drifting towards you."
Before Solane could respond, the door swung open without warning.
Sir Ian stepped in, armor gleaming.
Renna leapt to her feet, scowling. "You can't just barge in like that! Knock, at least!"
Solane stifled a laugh behind her hand. "You two really do sound like a couple."
Renna flushed faintly, muttering beneath her breath, "Not funny, Your Highness."
Sir Ian, oblivious to the exchange, stepped forward and bowed slightly. "I'll take the lecture later. First things first – I've got a message. Your Highness, Vanith asked me to pass it on. He said he was thankful that your put the kingdom's safety first before everything else."
Solane's smile vanished in an instant. "Did he now?"
Ian's grin faltered. He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, don't mistake me. I don't buy his act. Something about him has shifted since this morning… I don't know... The man's got that soldier's polish on the outside, but his words now…" he shook his head, "they cut like a knife dipped in honey. Can't trust that."
Renna arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Then why deliver his words at all, if you don't trust him so much?"
Ian huffed. "Because when it came to you, Your Highness, I will jump at every opportunity to assist you in every means possible. However, I don't like the way he and other generals carry themselves these days." He leaned forward. "I don't like the way they look at you either. Like you're some… some chess piece, they've already decided the fate of."
Renna gave him a sidelong glance. "And you stood there calmly, nodding along like an obedient scribe."
"I was listening," Ian muttered. "Calmly, yes, but don't think for a second I wasn't watching. His eyes, his tone… I was weighing him up the whole time." He jabbed a finger towards the floor. "And the scales tipped wrong. If it were up to me, none of them would be allowed within a mile of you."
Solane let the two of them trade words for a moment. The weight of Vanith's gratitude felt like a stone pressing against her ribs.
Renna noticed her silence and gently reached for her hand. "Your Highness… everything will be fine. What about your mother? You've not visited her since before the council."
The mention of her mother pulled Solane from her fog. Her gaze softened. "I was going to. Later today…"
Renna nodded. "We'll go together then. She'll certainly be glad to see you."
Solane smiled faintly.
Ian crossed his arms. "Then I'm coming too. If nothing else, I'll make sure no general decides to stroll in and disturb you again."
Renna interrupted in between. "By the way, you hadn't finished explaining morning's events."
Solane's mind drifted back to incident. With Ian here, she decided to continue.
"…He was chased by Vanith. With nowhere to go, he panicked… and leapt for the window…"
Wind tore at Elias' face, his stomach lurching as the world blurred past him.
His chest seized. His limbs flailed. The courtyard loomed like jagged teeth below. Adrenaline sharpened his instincts. He kicked off the frame, angling himself sideways.
The new angle sent him careening outside the courtyard, towards the dark trees. The motion nearly wrenched his shoulder out of its socket.
Branches whipped against his face as he crashed through the treetops. Bark split his knuckles and splinters tore into his arms. His ribs struck a heavy limb – crack.
[ Severe physical damage! Activating the Sigil of Vitality. ]
The sigil pulsed furiously. Veins burnt beneath his skin as bones began knitting even before he could scream.
And them, with no time left to brace – impact.
Branches snapped as he tore through them. Each one of the branches lashed against his body with brutal force. His arm cracked against a thick bough. But with every new strike, his descent slowed down.
Then his clothes snagged.
He jerked violently as the fabric caught on a crooked branch. His entire body swung, dangling above the forest floor. His heart hammered in his chest as he clawed for breath. For a moment, he just hung there – trembling, while his veins flared beneath his skin.
"Alive…" he muttered.
He almost believed it.
Until, the branch creaked.
A sharp crack split the night. His eyes widened just before the wood gave way beneath his weight.
The world dropped out from under him again.
Elias slammed into the earth below. Pain exploded through his body, hot and merciless. He rolled, once, twice, and then lay still on the cold ground.
Elias lay there, staring at the morning sky above. His chest still rose. His veins still pulsed.
The shouts of distant horns still echoed faintly through the forest.
But for now, he was alive – barely.