Inside, the prince had awakened;
And the day had truly begun.
He tried to rise.
Slowly.
Carefully.
His elbow pressed into the mattress. His shoulders lifted a fraction from the bed.
A sharp breath escaped him.
Pain.
It spread across his ribs like fire beneath the skin.
His hand trembled.
He forced himself higher.
The room tilted.
His vision blurred.
And suddenly;
His strength failed.
He fell back against the pillows.
A strained gasp left his lips.
The Queen was at his side instantly.
"Do not move," she said, her voice breaking despite her effort to steady it.
The King stepped forward, concern hardening his features.
"You are not yet healed," he said firmly, though the firmness masked fear.
The prince frowned faintly, breathing uneven.
"I am not weak," he murmured through clenched teeth.
"No," the Queen whispered, brushing his hair from his forehead. "You are not."
He turned his head slightly.
His young eyes studied them.
Too observant.
Too aware.
"You are crying," he said softly.
The Queen froze.
The King looked away for a brief second.
The prince's gaze shifted between them.
"What has happened?"
Silence thickened in the chamber.
The King stepped closer to the bed.
"Nothing you must burden yourself with," he said.
The prince's jaw tightened ; a familiar gesture.
The Queen saw it.
The same stubborn line.
The same fire.
"Do not lie to him," she said quietly.
The King looked at her.
Then back at their son.
The prince pushed himself up again, ignoring the flare of pain, managing only to sit halfway before another wave forced him still.
His breathing grew heavier.
"Tell me," he demanded, though his voice remained fragile.
The Queen's composure cracked once more.
"She is not here," she whispered.
The prince blinked.
Not understanding at first.
"Not here…?"
The King spoke now, low and steady.
"Your sister left before dawn."
The words hung in the air.
The prince's eyes widened slightly.
Not in panic.
In thought.
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
Then closed his eyes with confusion and no words coming out of his mouth.
The Queen's grip on her son's hand trembled.
For the first time that morning;
All three of them understood.
"I will bring her back."
The words left King Alric like iron.
He did not wait for reply.
He turned and strode from the chamber, cloak sweeping behind him, boots striking stone with sharp finality.
The doors closed.
Inside, the Queen remained beside the prince, holding his hand. The boy stared at the ceiling, silent now, thoughts moving where his body could not.
Alric moved swiftly through the corridors of Greyvale Palace.
Servants lowered their eyes.
Guards straightened.
No one dared speak.
At the eastern wing, two armored guards stood before a heavy oak door.
They struck their spears to the marble floor.
"His Majesty, King Alric."
Inside, near a tall arched window, Uncle Garron stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out toward the distant hills.
He did not turn.
The doors shut behind the King.
Silence lingered.
"Garron."
Alric's voice was firm.
Measured.
Garron exhaled slowly, still looking outward.
"They are gone," Alric said.
"I know," Garron replied calmly.
No shock.
No confusion.
Just certainty.
Alric stepped closer. "You knew?"
Garron finally turned.
"I heard the whispers."
Alric's jaw tightened. "The princess. Thalia. Henry."
Garron nodded once.
"And Mauris," he added.
Alric's eyes narrowed.
"And Frauner."
Silence thickened.
All five names now stood between them like drawn blades.
"You are not surprised," Alric said quietly.
Garron's expression remained steady.
"They have been restless for months."
"They are not soldiers," Alric snapped.
"No," Garron agreed. "They are something else."
Alric paced once across the chamber.
"They rode out before dawn. Together."
"Yes."
"You trained half of them."
"And you inspired the rest," Garron replied evenly.
Alric stopped.
Anger flickered in his eyes ;not at his brother.
At the situation.
"At least tell me you believe they understand the danger."
Garron held his gaze.
"I believe they understand enough to move forward."
"That is not reassurance."
"It is truth."
The King looked toward the window now.
Toward the faint, distant line of forest.
"They walk toward something we barely comprehend."
Garron's voice lowered slightly.
"They do not walk blindly."
Alric clenched his fists.
"If harm comes to them..."
Garron stepped forward.
"It will not be because they were unprepared."
A long silence followed.
Two brothers.
Two warriors who had once stood on battlefields together.
Now standing helpless within palace walls.
Alric finally spoke.
"We send riders."
Garron shook his head slightly.
"If you send soldiers now, you chase them."
Alric's eyes hardened.
"And if we do nothing?"
Garron's gaze did not waver.
"Then we trust that the fire we allowed to grow in them does not consume them."
The words settled heavily.
Worry showed now.
Not in words.
In the tightness of King Alric's jaw.
In the way his fingers flexed at his sides.
He looked at Garron.
Not as king to general.
As brother to brother.
Garron met his gaze.
Read everything in it.
He exhaled slowly.
"Fine," Garron said at last. "I will go look for them."