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."
Alric's head lifted sharply.
"No."
The refusal came instantly.
Too fast.
"You will not ride toward death's door alone."
Garron's brow arched faintly.
"Death's door?" he repeated, almost amused.
Alric stepped closer. "The forest is not a patrol route. We do not know what moves there."
Garron's expression softened ; but only slightly.
"I am not one of your court knights, Alric."
He stepped nearer.
"I am the finest warrior this kingdom has."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"Even better than you."
A flicker of reluctant annoyance crossed Alric's face.
Mocking.
Familiar.
Almost comforting.
Garron turned without waiting for further protest and walked toward the iron-bound chest at the foot of his chamber.
He opened it.
Inside lay polished steel.
His armor.
He lifted the breastplate first; darkened silver etched with faint battle lines earned over years. Not ornamental. Not ceremonial.
Used.
Scarred.
Alive with history.
He slid it over his shoulders and fastened the leather straps with practiced precision. The metal settled against him as though it remembered its master.
Next came the pauldrons, heavy and curved, locking into place over his shoulders.
Bracers tightened around his forearms.
Greaves secured at his legs.
Each buckle pulled firm.
Each plate aligned.
No wasted motion.
The transformation was silent and deliberate.
The thoughtful uncle vanished.
The warrior remained.
At the far wall rested his weapon.
A double-edged blade crafted in two interlocking halves ; forged to split apart when needed, twin swords born from one spine.
Garron lifted it carefully.
With a firm twist and measured pull, the weapon separated.
Steel whispered against steel.
Two blades now gleamed in his hands.
He tested their balance, rolling his wrists once.
Satisfied.
He brought them together again ; aligning the inner grooves precisely ; and pressed until they locked with a sharp metallic click.
One blade once more.
Whole.
He slid it into its sheath across his back in a smooth motion.
Then he turned.
"Let's go."
Alric said nothing.
He simply followed.
They walked side by side through the long corridor.
Boots striking stone in steady rhythm.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Alric broke the silence.
"The forest."
His voice was lower now.
"What do you know?"
Garron did not slow.
"I sent scouts three weeks ago."
Alric glanced at him sharply. "Without informing me?"
"I informed your captains," Garron replied evenly. "You were occupied with council disputes."
Alric said nothing.
Garron continued.
"They found disturbed ground beyond the western ridge. Animal carcasses drained. Trees split from within, not cut."
Alric's jaw tightened.
"And the rumors?"
"They are true," Garron said quietly. "Something is moving beneath that forest canopy."
Alric's gaze hardened.
"Undead?"
"Not confirmed."
A pause.
"But the air there feels wrong."
They turned down the stairwell toward the lower hall.
Torches flickered as they passed.
Garron spoke again.
"There are whispers among villagers near the treeline. Lights at night. Shapes between trees."
Alric exhaled slowly.
"And you did not wish to alarm the court."
"No," Garron said. "I wished to be certain."
Silence followed them for several steps.
Then Garron's tone shifted slightly.
"There is something else."
Alric glanced at him.
"I wanted to ask you something."
"What?"
Garron's eyes stayed forward.
"Did you notice the black lightning in the arena… when Leah and Daemian fought?"
Alric stopped walking.
"Black lightning…?"
Surprise cut through his features.
Garron halted a few steps ahead and turned.
"You may have missed it," he said calmly. "You were worried."
Alric's mind raced.
"I saw the impact," he murmured. "But I thought it was dust. Shadow from the torches."
"It was not."
A long silence.
"Black lightning," Alric repeated quietly.
His thoughts sharpened.
"Does this mean… a new power?"
Garron held his gaze.
"Perhaps."
Alric's eyes widened slightly.
"An awakening?"
"Maybe."
They resumed walking.
"Does that mean the prince had a second awakening?" Alric asked, voice tightening. "It is very rare."
"Very rare," Garron agreed.
Alric's mind moved quickly.
"Or"
He stopped again.
"You mean Leah."
Garron did not answer immediately.
"Awakenings usually happen in childhood," Alric said slowly.
"Yes."
Another pause.
"But not always," Garron replied.
Alric stared ahead now.
"If she awakened ....."
He did not finish the sentence.
"Let us see when I return," Garron said evenly.
"Maybe it is nothing."
Alric looked at him sharply.
"You do not believe that."
Garron's expression did not change.
"Maybe," he repeated.
They descended the final steps toward the stables.
The weight of new possibilities hung between them.
Black lightning.
Second awakenings.
The forest stirring.
And five young warriors riding toward it.
Neither brother spoke again.
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
The walk to the stables passed in silence.
Stone corridors gave way to open air.
The scent of hay and leather replaced marble and incense.
Stable hands froze when they saw them approach.
Garron moved to a brown stallion tied near the far end.
The horse was powerful; broad-chested, muscles rippling beneath a coat the color of dark oak after rain. A faint white streak marked its forehead like a scar of light.
Its ears flicked as Garron approached.
Recognizing him.
He untied the reins slowly.
Ran a hand along its neck.
Carelessed it gently.
The stallion huffed softly and stamped once.
Alric stepped forward.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Alric reached out and pulled his brother into a tight embrace.
Hard.
Unyielding.
"Please," he said quietly. "Bring them back."
His voice lowered further.
"And stay alive."
Garron smiled faintly against his brother's shoulder.
"Don't worry," he said. "I won't die before you."
He pulled back, eyes sharp again.
"Do not send others recklessly. I will find them."
He placed one foot in the stirrup and mounted in a fluid motion.
Settled into the saddle.
Gripped the reins.
He glanced once more at Alric.
A final nod.
"Hyaaaah!"
The stallion surged forward.
Hooves struck stone.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The sound echoed through the courtyard as Garron rode through the gates, his dark cape snapping behind him in the wind.
Alric stood unmoving.
Watching.
The figure grew smaller along the road.
The rhythm of hooves fading.
Thud…
Thud…
Thud…
Until there was only wind.
And the distant line of trees.
And a king left waiting.