“Ed?”

  Nadja knocked softly on the door, already bracing herself for silence. After everything he had endured the previous day. The wounds, the exhaustion, the sheer weight of it all, She had fully expected him to still be asleep.

  Instead, she heard movement from within.

  “Just a minute.”

  She blinked, surprise flickering across her face.

  He’s already awake? she thought.

  Moments later, the door opened.

  Edmund stood before her, already dressed, his hair still slightly tousled but his posture upright. The deep shadows that had ringed his eyes the night before were still there. Faint but unmistakable, yet his gaze was clear, focused in a way she hadn’t seen since before the attack.

  “Good morning, Nadja,” he greeted calmly.

  “Good morning, Ed,” she replied, studying him more closely. “I thought you’d be fast asleep after all the injuries you took yesterday.”

  A faint smile touched his lips. Small, tired, but genuine.

  “I suppose that means you took care of them well,” he said.

  A hint of warmth crept into Nadja’s cheeks before she could stop it. She hesitated, then asked more softly, “How are you feeling?”

  Edmund considered the question for a moment.

  He didn’t rush to answer. He rolled his shoulders slightly, testing them, aware of the dull aches beneath the bandages, reminders rather than warnings now.

  “Better than yesterday,” he said at last.

  Nadja exhaled, relief easing tension she hadn’t realized she was holding. “That’s… good.” She frowned faintly. “Still, you shouldn’t push yourself too hard today.”

  “I won’t,” Edmund replied, and for once, it didn’t sound like a promise made only to be broken.

  For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

  Nadja stared at him a little longer than she intended, as if confirming he was truly steady on his feet, not about to sway or wince.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly. “I brought you breakfast, by the way.” She stepped aside and tugged a small trolley into view. “Would you like to eat now?”

  “They look good,” Edmund said, glancing at the food before looking back at her. “Sure. Would you stay and eat with me?”

  Her expression softened. “Of course,” she replied with a small smile, pushing the trolley into the room.

  Inside, as they ate, Nadja found her gaze drifting back to Edmund again and again.

  “Is something wrong?” Edmund asked after taking a sip of tea.

  “Hm?” Nadja blinked. “Ah—no. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just glad you recovered so quickly.”

  Edmund smiled faintly. “You made these, didn’t you?” he asked after swallowing a bite of potato.

  “How did you know?” Nadja asked, amused.

  “The potatoes are too uniformly cut,” Edmund replied. “Same with the sausages. The palace staff always cut them in uneven sizes. Yours are always measured.”

  “It’s that obvious?” Nadja said, a little bashful.

  They finished the meal in quiet comfort. When that brief moment of peace passed, they headed toward the council chamber to meet Aristide and the ministers.

  A few paces from the door, Nadja slowed.

  “This is where we part ways, I guess,” she said.

  Edmund turned to face her completely.

  “Thank you for all your help, Nadja,” Edmund said to her.

  “Anytime, Ed,” Nadja replied before leaving.

  Approaching the door, the guards immediately opened the door for him, greeted by murmurs of fear for both the creatures returning and supplies running low.

  Upon stepping inside, the convening men suddenly stopped, all heads turning to glance at him.

  Aristide was the first to approach.

  “Why are you already up?” the younger prince asked, “you should be resting.”

  “I’m fine now,” Edmund responded. “I want to join the council meeting.”

  “Are you sure?” Aristide asked, cupping his chin, narrowing his eyes.

  Edmund nodded in response.

  Aristide made way, allowing Edmund to take the head seat.

  “Father is still recovering, Serena is… still unconscious,” Aristide started. “Miss Idun said she’s not certain when she will wake up.”

  “I see.” Edmund responded, his expression solemn. “And the villagers?” he asked.

  “Most of them have been settled, thankfully,” Aristide replied.

  Edmund nodded once.

  “Now, onto the actual threat,” Grenier said, folding his hands against the table. “The blood alchemist hasn’t returned with his conclusion yet as to what we’re up against. We need to—”

  “The Draemhyr,” Edmund said without hesitation.

  Silence fell over the chamber.

  “Pa—pardon, Your Highness?” Grenier stammered.

  “The creatures we fought,” Edmund continued calmly, “they resemble the Draemhyr that attacked us in the forest.”

  A chill swept through the room.

  Murmurs rose again. This time sharper, threaded with panic and dread.

  “You… you mean to tell—” Horace began, his voice faltering.

  “It reproduced,” Edmund said. “And its spawns are coming for us.”

  “How?” Aristide asked, panic creeping into his voice. “Wasn’t it alone? And… how could it reproduce in such a short period of time?”

  “That’s the only logical conclusion I can draw,” Edmund replied. “Their appearance, their behavior, their viciousness. It’s all too similar.”

  “We don’t fully understand Draemhyrs,” Grenier added, his voice strained. “That includes how they reproduce, or how quickly.”

  Edmund nodded. “We need to find its nest immediately and destroy it. If we don’t, it will keep producing more offspring until we’re overwhelmed.”

  A murmur of unease spread through the chamber.

  “How can we possibly find it?” one of the ministers asked. “We’re surrounded by vast forests. It could be anywhere.”

  “We can search the area where it attacked Prince Edmund,” Grenier suggested, “although there’s a chance it fled far from there to hide from us after all the injuries it received.”

  Edmund turned toward his brother.

  “Aristide,” he said evenly, “I think you already have the answer.”

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  Aristide studied Edmund for a moment longer, his gaze searching. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up.

  “Bring me a map,” he said at once.

  Moments later, a map was laid out before him. Aristide leaned over it and began marking points, seemingly at random at first. The site where the king had been attacked. The village Edmund had defended. The village Minos had come from.

  “Draemhyrs are vicious apex predators,” Aristide said as he located another settlement on the map. “And most predators don’t roam aimlessly when they hunt.”

  He added a few more marks, then paused.

  Slowly, he drew a circle around a section of forest enclosed by the points he had marked.

  “Here,” he said, tapping the upper left portion of the map. “If the Draemhyr and its spawns behave like an organized pack, then their nest would be somewhere in this area.”

  A hush settled over the chamber.

  “So they’ve marked it as their hunting ground,” Horace whispered.

  “How did it get that far?” Grenier asked, disbelief clear in his tone. “That’s nearly a hundred kilometers from where it attacked Prince Edmund. Even for a powerful creature, it was badly wounded. Are we certain it could have made it there?”

  Edmund was silent for a moment, thinking.

  “The boar, from out hunt,” he said at last. “We left it untouched after we killed it. The Draemhyr must have found it and used it as sustenance as it traveled.”

  Grenier’s face paled. “By the gods…” he whispered. “And we never told the public it was loose in the kingdom. We left them unprepared, vulnerable.”

  “There will be time for apologies, General,” Edmund said firmly. “What matters now is that we find the monster’s nest and stop its rampage.”

  “I agree with the prince,” Damien said at last, breaking his silence. “This is the time for action.”

  “So do I,” Conrad added, having listened quietly from the side.

  Around the chamber, a few soldiers and councilmen murmured their agreement.

  Edmund let his gaze travel across the table, giving space for dissent, for hesitation.

  None came.

  “It’s settled, then,” Edmund said at last.

  He straightened.

  “Assemble a host,” he ordered. “We hunt the Draemhyr.”

  The council bowed as one, acknowledging his command. Edmund dismissed them, and each departed to make their preparations.

  Edmund stepped outside, finding a familiar individual waiting outside. “Tristan?”

  “I’m coming with you,” he said the moment Edmund approached him.

  “Are you certain, Tristan?” Aristide asked. “You’ve only just recovered.”

  Tristan met his gaze before turning back to Edmund. “Lady Serena saved my life during that attack,” he said. “I intend to return the favor by ending this scourge before she wakes.”

  Edmund met his eyes, each staring at the other, an exchange of unspoken intent.

  The prince extended his arm not long after without debate.

  “Then let’s vow to do it together.”

  Tristan grabbed Edmund’s arm, his grip firm but brief, an acknowledgment without words.

  A shared understanding.

  After the meeting dispersed, Edmund made his way through the quiet halls to his father’s chambers. The guards announced him softly before stepping aside. Renault lay propped against embroidered cushions, color slowly returning to his face, though the wear of recent days still clung to him. When Edmund entered, the king offered a tired but genuine smile.

  “Father,” Edmund said, approaching the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

  “Quite well, son,” Renault replied. “Well enough to be bored at least, which I take as a good sign.”

  Edmund allowed himself a small breath of relief.

  Renault’s gaze sharpened slightly. “I’ve heard about the Draemhyr,” he continued. “And your intention to hunt it down.”

  Edmund straightened. “Yes. I intend to lead the hunt myself.”

  For a moment, the room fell silent. Renault studied his son carefully, weighing not just his words, but the man standing before him. The boy who once sought approval was gone. In his place stood someone tempered by blood and consequence.

  “Please,” Edmund said at last, his voice steady. “Allow me to lead it.”

  Renault did not answer immediately. His eyes drifted to the window, to the distant sky beyond the walls, as though searching for counsel only he could hear. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but resolute.

  “I’m afraid I can only wish you luck this time, my son,” he said. “And pray for your success.”

  Edmund inclined his head. “Thank you, Father.”

  As he turned to leave, something on the king’s table caught his eye.

  A sword.

  It was unlike any Edmund had seen. Its shape unfamiliar, its craftsmanship strange and unusual. Along the length of the blade, faint symbols had been carved into the steel itself, thin and precise, their meaning utterly foreign to him. They caught the light at certain angles, as though etched deeper than mere decoration.

  “Where did you get that sword, Father?” he asked. “I don’t believe I’ve seen it before.”

  Renault followed his gaze. For just a heartbeat, something unreadable crossed his expression. Memory, perhaps, or hesitation.

  “In time, Edmund,” the king said at last, his voice measured. “I shall explain everything to you.”

  Edmund nodded, though unease stirred in his chest as he left the chamber behind.

  Edmund went to Serena’s chamber next.

  She lay peacefully upon the bed, her breathing slow and even. Color had returned to her cheeks as well, faint but unmistakable, a sign of life reclaiming what it had nearly lost. The harsh stillness that had gripped her before was gone, replaced by a fragile calm.

  Edmund stopped beside her, careful not to disturb her rest.

  For a long moment, he simply watched her chest rise and fall.

  “Will she be all right?” he asked at last, his voice low.

  Idun stood near the window, hands folded before her, eyes never leaving Serena. “I was able to steady her breathing,” she said quietly, “and guide the flow of her energy back into balance.” She hesitated, the words that followed clearly chosen with care. “But when she wakes… I cannot say for certain.”

  Edmund said nothing.

  He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from Serena’s face, his touch light, almost reverent. She stirred faintly but did not wake.

  Silence settled between them, heavy but not empty.

  After a moment, Edmund spoke again. “Where is Leif?” he asked. “I wanted to bid him farewell before we begin preparations for the hunt.”

  Idun turned toward him. “Leif has gone to Lunaris,” she said.

  “The Alvarynn sanctuary?” Edmund asked, looking to her.

  Idun nodded. “I need water from one of the springs there. Its properties will aid Serena’s recovery.”

  “I hope he returns quickly,” Edmund said. His gaze lingered on Serena once more before he turned away, already bracing himself for the hunt ahead, leaving behind the quiet chamber, the soft rhythm of her breathing, and the fragile hope that she would wake soon.

  He spent the day moving through the palace, inspecting weapons and provisions. Afterward, Edmund went out among the villagers, spending time with them and ensuring they were properly housed and given enough food.

  Before sundown, he returned to his chamber. As he closed the door behind him, he surveyed the room in silence, his gaze moving slowly from one shadow to the next. His eyes drifted to the window, the place where the creature had first appeared.

  He stepped forward, stopping at the foot of his bed.

  Memory stirred.

  The towering figure that had followed.

  The ancient presence that had regarded him with cryptic intent.

  I won’t be afraid, Edmund told himself. Not anymore.

  I won’t hesitate again.

  Come if you must, he thought, jaw tightening. I will face you both.

  “That’s the spirit,” a voice of a man said suddenly, startling Edmund. “You didn’t let that ugly bastard break you.”

  Its tone however was nothing like the two deranged individuals from the night before. This one was firm, steady, measured, faintly commanding. So unmistakably human, in fact, that Edmund didn’t reach for his sword at once.

  He turned slowly, scanning the chamber. “Am I hallucinating again?” he murmured.

  “Afraid not, boy,” the voice replied.

  Edmund moved instantly, hand snapping to his sword as steel hissed free of its scabbard.

  “Who’s there?” the prince demanded, his voice steady now, stripped of fear. “Come out and face me.”

  His gaze swept the room, too quickly, before snapping back to the window.

  A lone hawk perched on the sill.

  Edmund froze, blade raised.

  The bird did not flee. It did not even stir. It merely stared back at him, unblinking, strange blue eyes fixed on his own.

  “Ready yourself, young prince,” the voice said again, calm and resolute. “The night will fall once more, and soon.”

  “Who are you?” Edmund asked, never lowering his guard.

  “Should the time come when you need my aid, you will see me again,” the voice replied simply. “Until then…”

  The hawk took off, wings beating sharply as it vanished into the sky.

  “What was that?” Edmund muttered, lowering his sword.

  No answer came.

  And then—

  “Oh, and don’t forget to loosen up a bit,” the voice added lightly. “Relax tonight. You’ve earned it.”

  Edmund snapped his sword back up, turning in a sharp circle, eyes searching the room. His brows knit in irritation rather than fear this time.

  Nothing.

  Alone once more, the chamber silent, Edmund straightened and let out a long breath.

  “I think I should sleep somewhere else tonight,” he said to himself. Tired, wary, and more than a little annoyed. He didn’t leave for another room though and fell asleep as soon as he lied down, following the hawk’s advice.

  The night passed quietly, uninterrupted. When Edmund woke, he felt unexpectedly rested, his body lighter, his thoughts clearer.

  Outside the palace, the clang of metal and the low hum of voices filled the air. His men were already at work, making their preparations for the hunt.

  Aristide and Nadja moved among them, inspecting gear and supplies, checking weapons, counting rations, ensuring the horses were properly saddled and ready. When they noticed Edmund approaching, they turned and walked to meet him.

  “Are you all set?” Nadja asked.

  Edmund tapped his scabbard twice. “All set.”

  “Be careful out there, Edmund,” Aristide added. “We don’t know how many spawns the Draemhyr might still have.”

  “I will,” Edmund replied. “Thank you—both of you.”

  Just then, Tristan appeared, followed closely by Conrad and Damien.

  “We’re ready to move, Prince Edmund,” Tristan said. He was fully armored, twin scabbards resting at either side.

  More figures emerged behind them. Gualter, Matthew, and the rest of Edmund’s surviving retainers.

  Edmund stopped short, eyes widening in genuine surprise. “You’re all coming as well?”

  Matthew nodded. “We are, Highness. We have a score to settle with that beast.”

  “I’m glad it’s still alive,” Gualter added grimly. “Time to make it pay for my missing finger—” He paused, then corrected himself. “I mean… for the friends it took from us.”

  Edmund met their gazes one by one, resolve hardening in his chest.

  He ordered his men to assemble, walking to the front to address them.

  Edmund stepped forward, turning to face the gathered men. The clatter of armor quieted as eyes turned toward him.

  “The creature we hunt today is unlike any monster we’ve faced before,” he said. “It is cunning. It breeds spawns that think and adapt. Some of them may already be waiting for us, hidden where we cannot see.”

  A murmur rippled through the ranks, then faded.

  “I will not promise certainty,” Edmund continued. “The path ahead is unclear, and danger will meet us at every turn. But I will promise this. If we stand together, if we see this through to the end, then our lands will be safe once more.”

  He looked over them, meeting each gaze in turn.

  “We are not marching for glory,” he said. “We march so our people can endure. So no more homes burn in the night. End this hunt, and our humble kingdom will be spared further bloodshed.”

  Edmund drew his sword just enough for steel to catch the light.

  “Stay sharp. Watch each other’s backs. And let’s finish this, together!”

  His men raised their swords and roared as one, the sound echoing across stone and sky alike.

  Today, they would not wait behind walls or pray for dawn.

  Today, they would bring the hunt to the Draemhyr—and end it.