The Duke’s boots scraped across the cold stone floor, his pace quickening with each step.
His pulse raced, pounding in his ears, and though the room around him remained unchanged — the dim candlelight flickering, casting long shadows on the walls — he could see none of it.
His vision had narrowed, locked solely on the motionless figure lying on the bed.
Beside the bed, the old physician worked silently.
His hands, though aged and weathered, moved with the precision of long practice as he carefully removed the arrow embedded in the young man’s leg.
Blood slowly seeped from the wound, dark and thick, pooling beneath the linens.
Without hesitation, the physician applied a thick, pungent paste, attempting to staunch the flow and ward off infection.
Varian’s breath caught in his throat, recognition striking him like a blow to the chest.
He staggered forward, gripping the edge of the bed for support, his hands trembling.
"No... it can’t be," he muttered, voice hoarse with disbelief.
His gaze was fixed on the pale, bloodied face before him, his mind reeling from the realization of who it was.
"Old man," Varian said sharply, his voice filled with urgency, "Open his eyelids. I need to confirm something."
The physician hesitated for only a moment, startled by the Duke’s sudden intensity, before nodding.
With trembling fingers, he carefully pried open the man’s eyelids.
What lay beneath was unnatural — the eyes gleamed faintly in the low light, their irises dark red, like blood swirling in a glass.
The deep crimson seemed to pulse, as though alive, and Varian could feel a chill spread through him at the sight.
"This must be blood... in his eyes, right?" Varian whispered, his voice barely audible. His heart raced, pounding harder with each beat.
The old physician leaned closer, squinting as he examined them, shaking his head slightly, replied calmly, "No, Your Grace... it’s not blood. Just... his natural pupils! A truly unique color indeed."
Varian had seen those eyes before, but never like this.
The realization pressed down on him like an iron chain.
Even though their encounters had been few, the striking features were impossible to forget.
His hands trembled uncontrollably as he clutched the bed tighter, turning toward the physician with wide, fearful eyes, "Are you sure he... he’s still alive?"
The physician wiped the sweat from his brow, his face etched with exhaustion, "Fortunately, he is, Your Grace, though barely. The blood loss and infection... It’s a miracle that he’s still breathing."
Sighed in relief, Duke Varian forced himself to stand straighter, regaining some measure of control.
He could not afford to show weakness now. His emotions, the fear gnawing at him, would have to wait.
"You’ve done well," Varian said quietly, though his voice remained tight with tension.
He turned to the physician, his gaze sharp.
"But remember, you are not to speak of what happened here. Not a word of his condition, or anything you’ve seen. Otherwise..." His tone grew cold, leaving the unspoken threat hanging in the air.
The physician nodded, understanding the gravity of the Duke’s words, "Of course, Your Grace. I will keep this matter strictly confidential. You have my word."
He gathered his tools quickly, his footsteps soft as he slipped out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Varian and Commander Ulric alone with the figure lying in the bed.
A heavy silence filled the room, thick and suffocating.
Varian’s hands shook slightly as he turned to Ulric, whose face had gone pale, his jaw clenched.
But if we can recognize such a scheme so easily, why would that old fox resort to such straightforward tactics?"
"Ughh–"
Just as Ulric opened his mouth to respond, a low groan cut through the air.
Both men froze, their eyes snapping to the bed.
Lucian stirred, his face twitching with ’pain’, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
"Your Highness..." Varian whispered, stepping closer, his earlier fear now replaced by a quiet urgency that tightened his chest.
He leaned over the prince, his voice soft yet desperate, as he tried to connect with the fading consciousness before him.
"Can you hear me, Your Highness? Are you feeling well now? Can you tell us what happened? Who did this to you?"
Varian fired off a barrage of questions, his voice urgent and filled with concern.
Ulric, standing beside him, placed a firm hand on the Duke’s shoulder.
"Your Grace, we should let the Prince calm down first," he suggested quietly. "He’s been through a lot. Give him a moment."
"You are right. I lost my composer for a moment."
In the bed, Lucian’s eyes fluttered open, revealing a deep well of ’fear’ that tugged at Varian’s heart.
Confusion clouded his gaze, and he ’struggled to focus’ on the faces hovering above him, their outlines shifting in and out of clarity.
"H-horse..." he stammered, his voice barely a whisper, trembling with panic as he fought against the ’pain’, "Where’s my horse?"
His brow furrowed, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple, adding to the distress etched on his pale face.
"Your horse?" Varian echoed, taken aback by the unexpected question, "What do you mean?"
With a sharp inhale, Varian turned to face Ulric, who promptly replied,"Unfortunately, Your Highness, your horse couldn’t make it. It... passed away."
"I see..." Lucian replied, his voice cracking, a tremor of anguish weaving through each word, "Don’t throw it away... I need to see it off myself..."
His ’sorrow’ was palpable.
"Alright. Now Prince," Varian urged, desperation lacing his tone, "Can you now tell us what exactly happened? And how did you end up in this situation?"
Lucian’s eyes flickered with ’terror’ as his trembling lips parted.
"De... demons..." he whispered, his voice barely a breath, trembling as dark memories resurfaced.
"What?!"
"What do you mean, Your Highness!?"
"We... we were attacked by demons..." Lucian continued, his eyes squeezing shut as if trying to block out the images assaulting him.
His voice grew weaker, but the ’horror’ within his words was unmistakable.
"They suddenly came out of nowhere, like shadows... shadows in the night, and... and they killed all my guards..."
Lucian’s breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving as he struggled to continue.
"One of them..." He swallowed hard, his voice cracking with ’fear’, "One of them even spit fi... fire from his mouth..."
The words came out in a broken rush, his ’horror’ almost palpable.
His fingers curled into the bedsheets, knuckles white as he gripped them, a physical ’manifestation of the fear’ coursing through him.
"And my... my dear brother..." Lucian’s voice trembled, the raw emotion choking him as he ’fought back a sob’.
His body shook with the weight of the words, and ’tears’ welled up in his bloodshot eyes, "He... he sacrificed himself to help me run..."