Leah reached the doors of the king's court and slowed.
Her hand rose; hesitant; fingers brushing the cold iron of the handle again to enter.
She pushed the door just enough for a sliver of light to spill into the corridor.
Then she stopped again as she heard
"Alric… my darling you seemed worry over something else as well."
The Queen's voice was soft, but it cut through the silence like a hand reaching for someone standing at the edge of a cliff. Her footsteps moved closer, silk whispering against marble, until she stood before the King.
Alric pulled her into his arms, holding her as though the world beyond the chamber might collapse if he let go.
"I have carried enough for one night," he said at last, his voice low; frayed by duty, darkened by dread.
"Enough blood. Enough fear."
He drew a slow breath, his fingers tightening in the folds of her gown, as if steadying himself against an unseen weight.
"But Garron told me something else."
The Queen lifted her gaze to him, worry tightening her features.
"What is it, my love?"
Alric drew a slow breath. "There is a rumour. Merchants. Travelers. A small caravan that never reached the eastern road." His gaze finally lifted, dark and troubled. "They were found near the edges of the Ashenveil Forest."
The name itself seemed to dim the room.
"The Ashenveil…" the Queen murmured. "People still dare go near that place?"
Alric nodded once. "That is what troubles me. Garron said their bodies were intact; no wounds, no signs of beasts." His voice hardened. "But their eyes were white. Every one of them. Pupils rolled upward, frozen as if they had seen something beyond fear."
The Queen's breath caught, just slightly.
"It sounds like the work of a demon," Alric finished quietly.
For a moment, the only sound was the faint crackle of the brazier near the wall.
Then the Queen stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Alric, don't burden yourself with baseless rumours," she said calmly, though her eyes betrayed concern.
"Stories like this rise and fall every few seasons. A shadow in the woods, a sickness, a frightened imagination. You know how people are."
Alric did not respond.
"I am sure Garron will look into it properly," she continued. "He always does."
Silence stretched again;but this time it felt heavier.
"What if it is not a rumour?" Alric finally said.
The Queen stiffened.
"What if, while we dismiss it," he went on, his voice tightening, "more people die? What if this is not a tale whispered to scare children, but a warning we are ignoring?"
He stood abruptly, pacing the chamber now, restless as a storm caged in flesh.
"I cannot handle this anymore," he admitted, the words escaping him before he could stop them.
"Every time I close my eyes, I see blood in the sand. I see our son collapsing beneath the sun. I see our daughter screaming his name. And now this....this darkness crawling at the edges of the kingdom."
The Queen followed him, her expression steady but filled with empathy.
"Honey," she said gently, placing both hands on his arms to still him, "believe in your brother. Garron has faced worse than rumours and lived to tell the tale. If there is truth to this, he will find it."
She guided him back toward the chair, her touch grounding.
"The Ashenveil Forest has been forbidden for generations," she reminded him.
"It is filled with dangerous creatures, unstable magic, old things best left undisturbed. Why these people entered it in the first place is beyond reason."
Alric sank back into the chair, exhaustion finally winning.
"I will send messengers tomorrow," the Queen continued.
"They will spread word throughout Greyvale. Anyone caught entering the forest will face punishment. Severe punishment. That alone will stop the foolish."
She knelt slightly so she was eye level with him.
"Let Garron investigate," she said softly. "Let us wait for his word before we let fear rule our decisions."
Alric stared into the fire, its reflection dancing in his eyes.
"…Waiting has cost us before," he murmured.
"Yes," the Queen agreed. "But acting in haste has cost us more."
Another silence fell; but this one was quieter, gentler.
Then she reached forward and wrapped her arms around him.
"Right now," she whispered, resting her forehead against his, "your son needs his father."
Alric's breath shuddered.
"I need my husband," she added.
His hands slowly rose, gripping her back as if anchoring himself to her presence.
"And our daughter," she finished softly, "needs her father too. Perhaps more than either of us realize."
For a long moment, Alric said nothing.
Then, finally, he closed his eyes and rested his head against her shoulder.
"You are right," he said quietly. "For tonight… I will be a father before I am a king."
She held him tighter.
Outside the chamber door, Leah stood frozen.
Every word had found her.
The Ashenveil Forest.
Demons.
Blood.
Waiting.
Her chest felt tight, her thoughts tangled.
She had wanted to storm inside; to confess, to apologize, to demand acknowledgment. Instead, she stood there, unseen, listening to truths never meant for her ears.
Your son needs his father.
Our daughter needs her father too.
Her throat burned.
She stepped back slowly, careful not to make a sound, and turned away from the door.
The corridor stretched before her, long and pale beneath the moonlight. She walked it alone, footsteps slow, mind lost in the echoes of the arena and the whispered fears of the kingdom.
Ashenveil Forest.
The name lingered in her thoughts like smoke.
She did not know why; but something deep within her stirred.
And this time, it was not regret.
It was a calling.