Kael Draven

  The night patrols along the edges of Espadaris had long lost the luster that once pushed me to don armor with pride. Now, they were merely shadows and silences, broken only by the heavy breathing of inexperienced soldiers and the cries of crows that seemed to feed on hope itself.

  We were three leagues from the Cardan border. A neutral land—or so the treaties claimed. But something felt off that night. The sky was too clear. Too quiet.

  “Captain,” called young Elric, one of the new recruits, barely out of adolescence. His eyes sparkled with the same unknowing arrogance I once carried. “We found a man near the stream. Traveler’s clothes. A staff. Says he’s a healer.”

  Healers don’t wander alone near borders. And never at night.

  “Bring him to me,” I ordered, my voice steady.

  Minutes later, Elric returned escorting the stranger. He was tall, lean, draped in a thick, weathered cloak. His long, braided beard hung down to his chest, stained by time and perhaps secrets. His skin was pale, his gaze calm but deep, as if every word he didn’t say was a veiled threat.

  He looked young, but time had marked him—subtle wrinkles around his temples and hands. When he locked eyes with me, I felt as if I were standing before someone who already knew too much.

  “Name?” I asked.

  “Silvar,” he said, voice low—almost too gentle for a land so cruel.

  “Purpose?”

  “Diplomacy,” he replied. “I serve something greater than you, Captain. A confidential mission.”

  Elric scoffed.

  “What kind of diplomat crosses borders secretly, with a staff and no escort?”

  Silvar didn’t respond. He just stared at me.

  “Search him,” I ordered. “If he’s truly a diplomat, he won’t mind.”

  That’s when everything fell apart.

  Elric grabbed Silvar’s arm forcefully, and the old man moved like a living current. In a smooth spin, he knocked the young soldier down with his staff, striking him in the stomach with a dry thud. Elric collapsed, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

  Before the others could react, I drew my sword.

  “Enough!” I shouted, lunging at Silvar.

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  The staff rose against me like a serpent. Old and worn, the wood moved with deadly precision. I blocked the first strike with my blade, the second grazed my shoulder guard, and the third aimed for my head—but it was too late. I spun my sword and struck him in the chin with the hilt, forcing him to his knees.

  He spat blood, but smiled. A smile almost… sorrowful.

  “I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” he murmured. “But that boy would’ve killed me for nothing.”

  We bound Silvar quickly. I ordered Elric be taken back to camp. He would live—but with cracked ribs and a wounded pride.

  With Silvar immobilized before me, I began to search him. His robes were lined with hidden pockets, flasks, cloths marked with runes, and finally… a letter. I pulled it free with care.

  My eyes froze at the sight of the seal—Cardan’s former queen.

  I opened it slowly, ignoring the presence of the soldiers. My eyes scanned the words with a desperation I could no longer hide.

  “Silvar,

  If this letter has reached you, it means you’ve accepted my plea.

  My sister worsens by the day.

  The king insists on keeping the healers of Diamonds away, but I’ve seen you work miracles before.

  If there is any kindness or debt between us, I beg you to come.

  Not for me, but for her.

  V.”

  My hands trembled slightly as I folded the letter.

  Violet… Not for me, but for her.

  Her sister was dying. And no one in the kingdom seemed to care. No one—except her… and now me.

  I took a deep breath, trying to keep the mask of cold authority intact. I stood, looking down at Silvar, still on his knees, his face smeared with blood and dust.

  “Release him,” I ordered, my voice sharp as a blade.

  The soldiers hesitated. Tension spread like poison between them. Elric, still pale and struggling to breathe, widened his eyes.

  “Captain? He attacked one of ours!” protested one of the veterans.

  “He’s a healer on a diplomatic mission. And… he must reach the Kingdom of Cardan as quickly as possible. Escort him to the edge of the border,” I said, voice firm—though something inside me was collapsing.

  Silvar raised his eyes to me, more alert now, almost… human. There was something there—a glimpse of understanding. Of empathy, perhaps.

  “You shouldn’t do this,” he murmured. “They won’t understand.”

  “I don’t understand anything anymore,” I muttered, casting a brief glance at the men behind me.

  “But she asked. And that’s enough.”

  Silvar straightened his cloak over his shoulders, rising with effort. He looked straight into my eyes, as if studying me one last time.

  “The feelings you carry… I’ll keep them secret, if you keep the contents of that letter just as silent.”

  The air froze. There was no threat in his voice. No mockery. Just… a silent pact between two men who knew the burden of what must remain unsaid.

  I nodded, dryly. Silvar gave one final nod before being led down the trail south by two soldiers. One of them still cast suspicious glances my way.

  When the torches vanished into the darkness and the sound of footsteps faded with the wind, I was left alone with my thoughts.

  I sat near the fire, watching the embers dance like fragments of my sanity. The letter was tucked away, but its words echoed in my mind like a whisper.

  “If there is any kindness or debt between us, I beg you to come. Not for me, but for her.”

  For her. For her sister.

  And Violet…

  Is she alright?

  Why do I care so much?

  The anger I once held seemed to fade, replaced by a restless ache.

  But I shouldn’t care. I am the captain of the guard, the king’s brother.

  And yet...

  “Why am I thinking about this?”

  “This is wrong.”

  I looked up at the star-filled night, seeking an answer in the void.

  But all I found was her name, whispered like a curse in every beat of my heart.

  Violet.