Two dozen armored men rushed forward, their boots echoing off the stone floor, forming a perimeter around the raised platform. Torches flickered against polished walls, casting long shadows across the sanctum, but the guards' eyes never wavered from Kael's form. The king's gaze stayed fixed, burning into the young knight who had recounted the impossible events.
Equito remained kneeling by the platform, her hands clenched at her sides. She did not speak. She did not move. The king needed answers, but no explanation could make the impossible comprehensible.
He strode closer, each step deliberate, each movement radiating authority and wrath. He inspected Kael's pale, marred chest, noting the completely healed wound where the halberd had struck. He reached out briefly, almost instinctively, to touch the boy's shoulder, only to draw back at the faint warmth beneath the skin, the subtle rise and fall of the chest.
"Priests," he barked, turning to the gathered clergy. "Prepare him for examination. Use whatever rites or rituals necessary to confirm what I already suspect—this boy has returned from death itself. I want every measure taken to ensure this is contained."
A young acolyte stepped forward, trembling, and muttered a prayer, sprinkling water and incense over Kael. The king's eyes narrowed, unrelenting. "Do not falter. He is my son. Nothing else matters."
Equito's gaze remained locked on Kael. She noticed the faint twitch of his fingers, the micro-movements no one else seemed to register. She felt a chill crawl up her spine. The king did not see it, too consumed by fury and disbelief.
"Bring me daily reports," the king said, voice lower now but no less commanding. "And keep this within these walls. No one outside this room may know of what has occurred. If this boy is a weapon, a curse, or a child of some unnatural power, it will not leave these halls unchecked."
The guards moved closer, forming an even tighter perimeter, their hands resting on sword hilts. Equito stood, her eyes scanning the room and then the body. Kael's chest rose slightly with each shallow breath, the faint cough repeating, almost teasing the edges of sanity.
The king's jaw clenched. He could not deny what he saw, and yet every fiber of his being refused to believe it. "I will not be mocked by death itself," he said. "If this boy is to live, it will be under my command. If he is to die, it will be by my hand, and by none other's."
Equito's hands itched to act, to intervene, but she remained still. She had seen what Kael could do. She had faced it, carried him, and watched the impossible unfold. She knew that the king's fury and authority would not control what had returned from death.
The room was silent now except for Kael's shallow breaths, the faint twitching of fingers, and the sound of the king's boots pacing slowly, deliberately, as he contemplated a son who had survived impossible odds.
Every second stretched taut with dread. The sanctum itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what would happen next, waiting for the impossible to decide whether it would obey or shatter every expectation of life, death, and power.
"Enough," he said. The word rippled through the chamber like a commandment. The priests froze mid-chant. The guards straightened. Even Equito felt the air itself tighten around him.
He turned to his captain. "Double the sanctum guard. No one in or out without my signet. Replace the outer ring with the royal sentinels by dawn. I want every entrance warded with both steel and spell."
The captain saluted sharply, and within moments the sound of disciplined movement filled the hall as messengers sprinted through the corridors.
The king's voice carried again, quieter but heavier now, the way only a ruler's could be when power wrapped every word. "Have the royal artificers brought in. I want containment sigils set into the walls. I want the old magi from the court, those who served my father, dragged from retirement if you must. No more experiments from the Academy. No scholars from the guilds. I want loyalty before brilliance."
Equito looked up from where she stood by Kael's side. "Your Majesty, he is still breathing. If you confine him, he may..."
"Be still, knight," the king cut her off. "Do not mistake mercy for wisdom. Whatever returned in him may not be my son at all. If it is, I will protect him. If it is not, I will protect the realm from him."
He began to pace, hands clasped behind his back, cloak dragging faintly across the polished floor. "When the generals arrive, tell them this, the missing heir has been found. Alive. Wounded. Recovering under my personal guard. That is all. They are not to ask how. They are not to ask why. And if they do," he turned, his eyes sharp as drawn blades, "they will not remain generals."
Equito bowed, though her jaw tightened. She had fought Kael. She had seen something human in him, even as the beast within tried to break free. "Sire," she said carefully, "the boy was no ordinary fighter. If he has survived death, his strength will only grow. If you confine him, if he awakens confused or—"
The king stopped her with a single raised hand. "Then he will learn what it means to be royal. He will be guarded, trained, molded. If he is mine, he will serve the crown. If the cult's poison lingers in him, I will burn it out myself."
Kael twitched again on the table. The sound was faint, but the king noticed it. He leaned closer, staring at his son's face, the faintest flicker of movement beneath the eyelids.
"There," he murmured. "You see, he still fights. Even in death he refuses to kneel."
He turned to Equito once more. "You will not leave the capital. You will be assigned to his watch. Until I know what he has become, you are my sword and his shadow. If he awakens, you will speak first. You will calm him. You will remind him where his loyalty lies. And if he turns," The pause was deliberate, "…you will do what you failed to finish before."
Equito's throat tightened, but she bowed deeply. "Understood, Your Majesty."
"Good," the king said. His voice softened just enough to betray something raw beneath the armor of command. "I have already lost one son to war. I will not lose another to whatever foul craft the cults left behind. If he truly is mine, then we will forge him into what this kingdom needs."
He looked down at Kael one last time, the faintest glimmer of pride flickering in his otherwise cold eyes. "My blood returns to me, alive or otherwise. The gods can damn the cost."
The king turned, his cloak flaring as he left the sanctum. The priests resumed their whispers, Equito remained still beside the slab, and Kael's breathing grew heavier, as though something deep within him was listening, waiting for the next command.