The bruises on Damon's body hadn't even fully darkened before Kael's fists clenched in silent rage. Every breath burned. Every second he held back felt like swallowing fire.
But now wasn't the time for anger.
Damon needed him.
Lina needed him.
Kael gently lifted his younger brother, careful not to hurt him more, and turned to Lina, who stood frozen, her eyes wide and teary.
"I promise he'll be okay," Kael said softly, though uncertainty gnawed at him.
"You said that when Father was taken," Lina whispered. "And when Mother died. Are you going to leave too, Kael?"
His heart sank.
"Never. Not unless you ask me to."
Without another word, he carried Damon and ran. Not to the guards or to the palace, but to the only man he trusted—Russell.
---
Russell's eyes widened when Kael burst into the shop, Damon limp in his arms.
"What in the world—"
"We need help," Kael interrupted, his voice low and urgent.
Russell grabbed his satchel without hesitation and led them toward the nearest Healer Pit. The place was clean, magical, expensive—and guarded.
Kael barely reached the gate when two men blocked his way.
"No entry without clearance," one guard snapped.
"He's dying," Kael said.
"He's breathing. That's enough. Go back to your alley."
Kael stepped forward, rage in his throat, ready to fight.
But Russell grabbed his arm.
"Not now. Not here. It won't help him."
Kael gritted his teeth. "Then where?"
Russell thought for a moment. "Carlos. A friend. He's a traditional healer. Works with herbs and roots. He lives in the refugee quarter, where the Nyphelyms first attacked."
---
The refugee camp was quiet and broken. A reminder of war and ruin. Inside a small tent filled with the smell of herbs, Carlos examined Damon.
"He's strong," the old man finally said. "But the injury runs deep."
"Can you fix it?" Kael asked.
Carlos looked at him steadily. "I can reduce the pain. Help him move again, maybe. But not fully heal. Not without Lilia."
"What's that?"
"A flower. Rare. It grows outside the barrier. But one bloom exists—in the palace garden."
Kael's face darkened. Of course it was there.
---
Elsewhere, Euphelia Sylfera sat in a high-backed chair, enduring another dull etiquette class. The tutor's voice droned on about forks and posture, but her thoughts were far from the palace.
She wondered how Damon was doing.
If Lina was scared.
If Kael was angry.
When the lesson ended, she stood quickly.
"I'll go out."
Lisa, her maid, raised a brow. "Disguised again, my lady?"
"Yes. Help me."
Soon Euphelia, in servant's clothes, slipped through the palace gates. She passed by the smithy where Kael worked—he wasn't there. Her heart sank.
She hurried to their home, but it was empty too.
On her way back, she overheard whispers.
"Some poor kid nearly died at the healer gate."
"They didn't let him in."
"No, said he wasn't worth the space."
Euphelia froze. Damon. She clenched her fists and returned to the palace quietly.
Tomorrow, she would return. She had to.
---
Meanwhile, Kaizen Stormclaw returned home to find his door slightly ajar. His instincts kicked in.
But instead of a threat, he found a table set for two, candles flickering.
And Sylfia, his fiancée, sitting in his chair.
She smiled brightly and ran to hug him.
"Took you long enough."
"What are you doing in my house?"
"Our house," she corrected sweetly, holding him tightly.
He didn't move. "You shouldn't be here."
"I missed you," she said, looking up. "Why are you always so cold to me?"
Kaizen sighed. This woman was a storm of her own kind.
---