As time passed and the tension on the battlefield lingered, Fianna was quickly walking through the castle corridors, her heart pounding. She felt something strange, an uneasiness she couldn't explain. When she reached Aemon's door, she tried to open it but found it locked.
Fianna (knocking gently on the door): — Aemon? Are you there? (Waiting for a response that didn't come, she knocked harder.) Aemon? Please, open the door!
Silence.
Worry grew in her chest, and she frowned. After another unsuccessful attempt, she decided to return and inform the others. When she entered the room where Alaric, Thorne, Cedric, and Edric were gathered, she carried a serious expression.
Fianna (with a concerned voice): — Aemon's door is locked. I tried calling him, but he didn't answer.
Alaric, who was standing, slowly turned to face her, his expression reflecting growing concern. Thorne, on the other hand, sighed and tried to calm the situation.
Thorne (trying to reassure): — He must be exhausted and decided to rest. After everything he's been through in the past few days, it wouldn't surprise me if he needed a good night's sleep.
Cedric nodded, agreeing with Thorne.
Cedric (with an understanding tone): — Aemon has been carrying a heavy burden. It's possible he just wants a moment of peace.
Edric, who had remained silent, looked at Alaric before speaking.
Edric (calmly): — Perhaps we should let him rest. Tomorrow, he'll be more willing, and we can talk to him.
Alaric, still worried, pondered for a moment before finally yielding to the general consensus. He wanted to believe that Aemon was just sleeping, recovering from exhaustion.
Alaric (sighing, nodding): — Alright, let him rest. We'll talk to him tomorrow. We've all had a long day.
With that, each of them retreated to their respective rooms, trying to calm their minds. Even so, a sense of unease lingered in the air, as if something was terribly wrong, but none of them wanted to admit it.
The locked door of Aemon's room remained a symbol of the secret they had yet to uncover, while the prince, far away, fought for his life at the hands of the cruel sorceress.
At dawn, the tension in the castle was almost palpable. Everyone noticed Aemon's absence, and the silence that followed was quickly shattered by the sound of guards running through the hall, visibly tormented and drenched in sweat, as if they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Thorne, always quick to anger, frowned as he saw the commotion. He stepped forward, his voice as sharp as a blade:
— What disrespect is this? Speak at once, or I'll have your head for disturbing the court's peace!
The guards, hesitant and wide-eyed, struggled to find the right words, but the agony on their faces made it clear they bore bad news. Alaric, impatient and worried, pressed them:
— Stop stalling and tell us what happened! What has happened to Aemon?
One of the guards, his voice trembling with fear, finally managed to speak:
— My lord, the prince... He... He was on the battlefield last night. There was a great explosion... And... He's missing...
Alaric, upon hearing these words, immediately turned pale, his face becoming a mask of pure terror. It was as if the blood had drained from his body; his breath caught, and he stood frozen, staring into the void. The thought of losing another heir hit him like a fatal blow.
Cedric, on the other hand, though he maintained a concerned expression, felt a hidden satisfaction grow within him. His eyes gleamed briefly, but he quickly masked it, feigning shock like the others.
Thorne, shocked, was at a loss for words, his mind struggling to process the information. He looked around, searching the faces of the others for confirmation that this wasn't a nightmare. The others were equally stunned, each grappling with the impact of the revelation.
The silence that followed was disturbing, each person lost in their own dark thoughts, as the weight of Aemon's possible loss settled over them like a black cloud.
Fianna, always quick to take the initiative, noticed the oppressive silence that had fallen over the hall. With a determined look, she stepped forward, breaking the ice that seemed to have paralyzed everyone around her.
— What exactly happened? — Her voice, firm and direct, cut through the air, demanding a clear answer.
The guards, still shaken, exchanged nervous glances before one of them stepped forward, trying to steady the tremor in his voice as he spoke:
— Milady, Prince Aemon... He was on the battlefield last night. — He paused, swallowing hard, and continued. — The fight was intense, and the prince faced the barbarian chief in a fierce duel. The situation was desperate, and...
— Continue — Fianna demanded, her patience wearing thin.
— He... He came up with a plan, Milady, a risky one. Aemon led the fight to an area where there was scattered gunpowder. When the barbarian chief was about to land the final blow, the prince... he used a torch to ignite the powder.
Fianna pressed her lips together, her eyes fixed on the guard, who continued with a trembling voice:
— There was a massive explosion, Milady. The barbarian chief was severely wounded and fled, and most of the barbarians were defeated. But... — He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. — But Prince Aemon... He hasn't been seen since. The battlefield was engulfed in flames, and we couldn't search for him because of the smoke and fire.
Fianna felt a tightening in her chest, but she maintained her composure, forcing herself to process the information. She glanced at Alaric, who still stood pale and shocked, before turning her attention back to the guards.
— Are you certain he hasn't been found? No sign of him?
— No, Milady — the guard replied, shaking his head. — We searched the area as soon as we could, but there was no trace of him. We fear... the worst.
The silence that followed was heavy, everyone in the hall absorbing the gravity of the situation. Fianna, her heart aching, knew she had to keep hope alive, but the reality the guards had just described seemed bleak.
With the devastating news about Aemon, the impact was immediate and brutal. King Alaric, already pale and visibly shaken, couldn't withstand the rising tension. His eyes rolled back, and his body succumbed to the weight of the shock. He collapsed to the ground without a sound, leaving everyone around him in a state of panic.
— The King! — Thorne shouted, rushing to Alaric's side, closely followed by Edric and Cedric. They knelt beside the king, trying to revive him.
— Cedric, help me lift him — Thorne ordered, trying to keep calm, though his heart raced. Cedric quickly grabbed his father's arm, while Edric took hold of the other. Carefully, the three of them lifted the king and placed him back into a nearby chair.
Thorne, realizing the gravity of the situation, turned to Fianna, who stood watching with a worried expression.
— Fianna, go quickly! Bring the court physician immediately! — His voice was urgent, almost a command, but filled with concern.
Fianna, without hesitation, ran out of the hall toward the physician's quarters. She knew there was no time to lose. The silence in the hall was broken only by the anxious murmurs of those present, as Thorne, Edric, and Cedric tried to keep the king stable, fearing the worst.
Thorne looked at the unconscious king and felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that the loss of another heir, especially Aemon, could be a blow from which the king might never recover. Now, everything depended on Fianna's speed in bringing the physician and Alaric's own strength to resist the abyss of despair opening before them.
Inside the cave, the atmosphere was grim, illuminated only by the flickering glow of the fire. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and something pungent. The sorceress, with a wicked smile on her face, slowly stirred a pot over the flames, the sound of the boiling liquid creating an almost hypnotic rhythm.
Aemon, lying on the cold, damp ground, began to stir. His eyes opened slowly, and the intense pain in his body hit him like an unrelenting wave. He tried to sit up in a sudden movement, but the agony made him groan, his entire body protesting.
— Well, well... The prince finally awakens — the sorceress said, her voice melodic but dripping with malice. She didn't turn to look at him, her eyes fixed on the pot as she continued to stir its contents. — Don't be foolish. Lie down, or your body will collapse for good.
Aemon, still confused and dazed, tried to understand where he was. He moved again, but the pain was unbearable. Seeing the expression of pain on his face, the sorceress laughed, a cruel sound devoid of any compassion.
— You were quite reckless in that battle, prince... But I must admit, it was entertaining to watch. All that destruction, all that chaos... It's almost poetic, don't you think? — She finally turned, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of madness and delight as she watched him suffer.
Aemon tried to speak, but his voice came out weak, barely a whisper. He could hardly keep his eyes open, the exhaustion threatening to pull him back into unconsciousness.
— What... did you do...? — he managed to murmur, trying to grasp the situation he was in.
The sorceress let out another laugh, this one softer but still unsettling. She grabbed a handful of herbs and tossed them into the pot, the smell intensifying.
— I saved your life, of course. But don't think it was out of kindness, my dear prince. I want to see how far your endurance goes, how much more pain and despair you can endure. — She slowly approached him, her expression a mix of morbid curiosity and sadistic pleasure. — Now, be a good boy and lie down. I have grand plans for you, but for that, I need you to stay alive... for now.
With no other choice, Aemon lay back down, feeling the cold of the ground and the warmth of the nearby fire. He was completely at her mercy, and the situation was as desperate as it could be. The only thing he could do now was to resist, if only to understand what this deranged woman had in store for him.