Chapter 10
Prophetic Shadows
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One Week Later
"Cater!"
Alric's voice echoed through the castle halls, sharp enough to make several servants stop mid-step. Cater quickened his pace, a folded cloak draped neatly over his arm. He found the prince pacing anxiously in his chambers, his brow furrowed and hands clenched into fists.
"My party is about to start, and there's a hall full of guests arriving," Alric said, frustration clear in his voice. "Where's my cloak? Why isn't it ready?"
Cater remained calm, stepping forward and laying the cloak down gently on the bed. "It's ready now, Your Highness," he said evenly. "Do you need anything else?"
Alric sighed, rubbing his temples as though to ease an oncoming headache. "Yes. I need you by my side all day. It's my birthday, which means everyone will want a moment of my time. I can't handle it alone."
He paused, picking up a folded parchment from his desk. "But first, I need you to deliver this." He handed the note to Cater. "It's for the new healer in town. My father says the man is a master of herbs and remedies. I don't know what's written here, but he will."
Cater nodded, slipping the letter into his pocket. As he turned to leave, Alric's voice stopped him.
"And Cater," Alric added, his tone softening, "don't be late. I need you back before the party begins."
Cater gave him a reassuring smile. "I won't be."
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The healer's hut stood on the outskirts of town, a humble wooden structure nestled against the edge of the forest. Cater approached it warily, a strange sense of unease settling over him. The air was heavy, the scent of herbs and smoke wafting faintly through the open windows.
He knocked lightly on the door, but before he could knock again, it creaked open.
An elderly man appeared in the doorway, his clouded, unseeing eyes immediately unsettling. Though frail in appearance, his movements were deliberate, as if he could see far more than he let on.
"Hello, sir," Cater greeted cautiously, stepping inside.
The man said nothing, turning toward a cluttered table filled with jars, dried plants, and open books. Cater hesitated before following.
"I'm Cater," he said, pulling the letter from his pocket. "The king asked me to deliver this to you."
The healer turned suddenly, his milky-white eyes locking onto Cater with unnerving precision. "I know who you are," he said, his voice low and deliberate.
Cater stiffened, caught off guard. "Oh… well, that makes this easier." He extended the letter, but instead of taking it, the healer grabbed Cater's wrist with a grip far stronger than his frail frame suggested.
"What is the son of the Dark Lord doing in a place as dangerous as Avalor?" the healer asked, his tone sharp and accusatory.
Cater yanked his arm free, his pulse quickening. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied evenly, though his voice carried a warning edge.
The healer chuckled and sank into a creaking chair, gesturing for Cater to sit. Cater remained standing, his body tense.
"You can hide it from others," the healer said, "but not from me. I may be blind, but I see far more than most." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You think the prophecy makes you a savior, don't you? That protecting the prince will bring peace. But you don't understand the cost of your mission."
Cater's jaw tightened. "What are you talking about?"
The healer reached into a leather bag, pulling out a tattered book. He flipped through the pages before handing it to Cater. "You've read the prophecy, haven't you? The part about protecting the prince from danger?"
Cater nodded stiffly.
"Then you missed the rest," the healer said grimly. "Read this."
Cater's eyes scanned the page, and his stomach dropped as he read the words: 'The protector's actions will awaken a fate that could lead the chosen heir to ruin.'
"This is nonsense," Cater snapped, slamming the book shut. "How do you even know what's written here? You're blind!"
The healer smirked, unshaken by Cater's anger. "Blind, yes. Powerless? No. But don't take my word for it. Keep going down this path, and you'll see for yourself what the prophecy truly means."
Cater's hands curled into fists, his anger barely contained. Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the hut, the healer's chilling words following him like a shadow.
Could protecting Alric really lead to his destruction?
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By the time Cater returned to the castle, the grand hall was alive with music and laughter. Alric stood near the entrance, scanning the crowd impatiently.
"There you are!" Alric exclaimed, his voice carrying over the noise. He grabbed Cater's arm, his expression a mixture of relief and irritation. "What took you so long? The party's about to start, and I need you with me."
Cater forced the healer's warnings to the back of his mind. "Apologies, Your Highness. I'm here now."
The hall was filled with nobles and knights, their colorful attire glittering under the glow of chandeliers. Cater stayed close to Alric, quietly assisting as the prince moved through the crowd, greeting guests with practiced charm.
For a brief moment, Cater allowed himself to relax. Watching Alric laugh and smile, so full of life, made the healer's warnings seem distant and irrelevant. How could protecting someone like Alric ever lead to ruin?
But the thought lingered, refusing to leave him entirely.
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As the night wore on, the party began to wind down. Alric, however, had indulged in far more wine than usual. He slumped into a chair, laughing loudly at a joke Cater hadn't heard.
"Alright, Your Highness," Cater said gently, helping him to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."
Alric mumbled something incoherent, leaning heavily on Cater as they made their way to his chambers. Once inside, Cater guided him to the bed and eased him down carefully.
As Cater turned to leave, Alric's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. "Don't go," Alric murmured, his voice softer than Cater had ever heard it.
Cater hesitated, glancing down at the prince. "You've had too much to drink," he said lightly. "Rest now. You'll feel better in the morning."
But Alric didn't let go. Instead, he pulled Cater forward, catching him off guard. Cater stumbled slightly, finding himself pressed against Alric's chest.
The prince wrapped his arms around him in a loose embrace, his breath warm against Cater's ear. "Stay," he whispered.
For a moment, Cater froze, unsure of what to do. Then, slowly, he relaxed, allowing himself to lean into the hug.
He looked up at Alric, who was already half-asleep, and a small smile tugged at his lips. For once, Cater let himself forget the weight of the prophecy, the warnings, and his own dark secrets.
Maybe, just for tonight, he could let his guard down.
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