It seemed Berevreth knew far more of these happenings than she cared to admit.
Perhaps it was time I shared what haunted my thoughts.
"Lately," I began, turning toward her, "I have been seeing… strange things."
Her gaze lifted at once. "Strange things?" she asked, her voice calm but mixed with concern.
"There is a demon that follows me," I confessed.
Her brows arched slightly, as she said nothing, waiting for me to continue.
"The first time I saw it was the day I woken up here, two days after the attack," I said quietly. "Since then, I have glimpsed it more than once. Each time it appears, it does not attack… only stands and watches."
Berevreth's expression grew dark. "Only watches? It makes no attempt to harm you?"
I shook my head.
"How can that be?" she murmured. "Demons are creatures of malice. Their very existence is sworn against life, your life to be precised."
"Then perhaps it is not a demon," I said weakly.
Her eyes narrowed. "Describe it."
I took a breath. "It looks like… a man-shaped shadow, completely black, like it's made of thick smoke. Its eyes aren't really eyes, just empty sockets with a faint red glow, like dying embers in the dark. It doesn't walk, it drifts, and when it moves, the air around becomes cold, like something alive but not meant to exist."
Berevreth blinked slowly, then gave me a long, flat stare, her eyes half-lidded, as though she'd just endured the worst nonsense coming from a lunatic.
"So... ," she began dryly, "does that sound like an angel of God to you? If that's your idea of an angel, remind me never to pray beside you Elowen." She said
I paused. "Okay… fair point. What was I even thinking?" I muttered under my breath.
But then a thought flickered through my mind, stubborn and uncertain. "What if… maybe it isn't evil at all? What if… perhaps… there are demons that simply watch? Ones that don't harm?" I said quietly, my voice wavering with hesistatance under her dry stare.
"If there exists such a creature," she replied, crossing her arms, "then it ought not be called a demon at all. Maybe a decorative shadow, or some wandering gloom with too much free time." she said
Even with how absurd her tone was, the worry didn't quite leave my face
Then she tilted her head, taking in my expression already, she said, " Tell me then, if not a demon, what else could it be, when ever you see it...what does it feel?"
I drew in a slow breath. "It feels like… the Knight that had saved me that day.... I felt the same.... essence from that night. Only this time…" I looked upward, searching for the right words. "It's as if he's calling to me, not merely watching."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest crease forming between her brows. "Calling?" she echoed, her tone wary.
I nodded. "Yes. Like he's trying to reach me, somehow."
"Shouldn't you tell this to the priest?" Berevreth asked, her voice earnest.
"No," I said almost too quickly.
Her brows lifted. " why not?"
"Because…" I trailed, the words slipping away. The truth was, I didn't truly know. Some instinct warned me that if I spoke of it, they would hunt whatever it was... They might hurt him again, and I could not bear to see another soul wounded for my sake.
Berevreth must've seen the uncertainty in my eyes, she studied me for a short while, saying nothing. Then, with a faint sigh, she reached across and took my hand.
"It's all right. I won't tell anyone," she promised. "If you are right about your hunch that it might be Asvran then i suggest you avoid it at all costs... Him" she added awakardly not sure how to put the word
"Either way, I've heard stories about him, i heard anyone who stands too close loses their sanity, or their strength, or worse… their soul. Some say crops die where he lingers, others say that those who meets him and dreams of it never wake whole again."
I swallowed hard.
She continued, Her tone hardened slightly. "So until I learn more, promise me you'll steer clear of it."
"I promise" i nodded immediately, its clear my cousin finds out things better.
---
In the King's Chamber, the air was filled with thick scent of herbs and oil
"Mmm…" King Maeric groaned softly as Father Amos applied a sacred ointment to his wound, but he didnt flinch. The Holy water hissed faintly each time it touched the corrupted flesh, as though the wound itself rejected sanctity. Meanwhile Father Martin and Brother Kaius sat nearby, their faces tight with worry.
The injury refused to heal. Though the priests constantly washed it with holy water to fight the dark essence, the corruption spread slowly beneath the flesh.
When Father Amos finished, he carefully wrapped the wound with a clean white cloth, then sighed deeply, taking a seat beside the King's bed. The King stayed half-lying, still catching his breath.
"Why… isn't it healing?" King Maeric asked through clenched teeth, lifting himself slightly. "You've tried every cure and prayer there is… yet it only spreads."
"The fact that it doesn't heal," Father Amos began quietly, "proves that whatever demon struck you was no ordinary one. I know the poisons of Nharoth, the bite of the Luth, the rot of the Ghrane, the mark of the Vevriel, even the curse of the Tharn. But this__" he shook his head slowly "this isn't any of them."
"But that's impossible," said Father Martin. "No demon beyond those has crossed into this realm for centuries."
Brother Kaius's expression darkened, as though he suspected something he didn't want to say aloud.
Father Amos turned to the King. "I believe there was another being present that day, something we might have missed. Do you truly recall nothing at all?"
King Maeric's brow furrowed. His fingers tightened against the bed linen as disappointment shadowed his face.
"No," he murmured, shaking his head slowly. "Nothing comes to mind. " He said as Silence filled the room. For a fleeting moment, every man present shared the same unspoken thought__ If only Princess Genevieve were here.
Her healing gift could have done what no potion could.
"Any word from Princess Genevive?" the King finally asked.
"Nothing yet," Brother Kaius replied. "We've confirmed she's not within her own kingdom, Veyra. Our men have searched through Athelmar, Brimholt, and the villages beyond the Sareth Hills. There's no trace of her."
King Maeric's jaw tightened. "And the House of Seliah? Have they searched there?"
Brother Kaius hesitated. "That would be… impossible, your majesty. The kingdom has already fallen. No one goes in or out without meeting death at the gates."
King Maeric clenched his jaw. "Then we send not soldiers, but spies. Men who can move like shadows. We can't risk an army, but we cannot sit idle either. Find those who can get in unseen… the princess's trail must not go cold, we must find her, one way or the other.
Brother Kaius gave a solemn nod, but before he could speak, Father Amos stepped forward. "Your Majesty," he said carefully, "perhaps we should also consider another alternative. If your injury continues to worsen without proper care, I fear you may lose your life sooner than any of us expect."
Father Martins turned toward him. "Tell us, Father Amos, what else can be done to heal the king?" He asked
"There may be one hope," Amos began, his tone lowering. "The Relic of Varethin. It rests under the guardianship of Sir Lucien, a Knight of the Sanctum Order. Although It is not a relic meant for healing, it was forged to ward off curses, but if wielded with the right invocation, its energy could be redirected to restore flesh."
The others leaned in, listening intently as he continued. "However, such a cure would be only half a salvation. The wound itself may close, yes, but the demon essence festering beneath would remain. The relic cannot touch the soul."
King Maeric's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean, Father Amos?"
"It means," Amos said gravely, "that only your body would be healed. The darkness that haunts your spirit would still linger. To purge that corruption completely… only Princess Elowen has the divine power to cleanse it."
The king's expression darkened. He turned his gaze away, hiding the pain behind his stern composure. The last thing he wanted was for Elowen to see him like this. She needed to focus, on her training, on awakening the power of the Chosen. Not on her dying father.
No, he thought bitterly. She must never know.
At this moment, cleansing the land from evil was the highest priority. With demons freely crossing the borders and the divine sister missing, the fate of all three kingdoms hung by a thread.The kingdom's fate now depends on Elowens strength, and only when the three sisters stood united could the prophecy of the Divine Bloodline be fulfilled.
Not now, the King taught, Not while darkness still clawed at the gates of the Kingdom's, and his daughter's destiny had yet to bloom, and that made him realize that he had to survive no matter what.
The king exhaled slowly, his breath heavy with frustration. "What of Princess Genevive?" he asked. "If the Knight heals it, I will be strong enough to join the search myself. Once we find her, she can complete the healing."
Father Martins exchanged a glance with Father Amos before saying. "It is not possible, Your Majesty," he said solemnly. "Princess Genevive's gift is limited." He said
"She can cleanse and heal a wound tainted by an unclean energy, yes, but the two must be done together. One without the other will fail. The gift of pure cleansing belongs only to Princess Elowen." He explained
Just then three sharp knocks echoed against the heavy doors.
"Speak," the king commanded, his deep voice reverberating through the stone walls.
"My king," came a guard's voice from outside, slightly breathless yet respectful.