Chapter 35: A Silent Promise

King Alex entered Melanie’s chamber, his expression cold and calculating. The guards had informed him of her condition, and though he cared little for her suffering, he knew she could not be allowed to die—not yet.

He carried a small vial of medicine, its contents just potent enough to keep her alive, but far too weak to cleanse the poison that ravaged her body. It was a cruel mercy, one designed to ensure her survival while keeping her powerless.

Melanie lay on the floor, her body trembling, her breath shallow. She looked frail, her once radiant presence reduced to a shadow of its former self.

Alex crouched slightly, holding the vial out to her. “Take this,” he said, his tone devoid of sympathy. “It will keep you alive.”

Melanie’s gaze flickered to the vial, her lips curling into a faint sneer. She knew his game.

Summoning what little strength she had left, she pushed herself up just enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes burned with defiance.

And then, with a sharp inhale, she spat at him.

The glob of blood and saliva landed near his boots, and Alex recoiled, stepping back hurriedly to avoid contact with the poison.

His face twisted in disgust, his composure momentarily shaken. “Fine,” he snapped, his voice sharp with irritation. “If you want to act like a child, then you will be confined to your room like one.”

He turned to the guards, his tone commanding. “Make sure she does not leave this chamber. See to it personally.”

The guards nodded, stepping forward to secure the room.

Alex straightened his coat, his expression hardening once more. “You will learn your place, Melanie. One way or another.”

With that, he turned and left, the sound of the door locking behind him echoing through the chamber.

Melanie collapsed back onto the floor, her body weak, but her spirit unbroken. She would endure. She would fight.

And one day, she would make him pay.

--

Callen lingered in the shadows of the corridor, his heart pounding as he listened to his father’s sharp commands echo through the stone halls.

“Make sure she does not leave her chamber. See to it personally.”

King Alex’s voice was cold, unyielding, and Callen felt the familiar weight of his father’s control pressing down on him. But this time, something inside him rebelled.

He had heard the guards’ whispers about his mother—how she had collapsed, how she had bled, how she had suffered.

And for the first time in his life, Callen wasn’t following orders.

He waited until the halls were quiet, the guards stationed outside Melanie’s chamber distracted by their own idle chatter. Then, with careful, deliberate steps, he slipped past them, his movements silent as a shadow.

When he entered the room, the sight before him made his chest tighten.

Melanie lay on the floor, her body frail, her breathing shallow. The once-powerful Priestess of Jewara, the woman who had been a symbol of strength and compassion, was now reduced to this.

“Mother,” Callen whispered, his voice trembling.

Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she stared at him in disbelief. “Callen?”

He knelt beside her, his hands hovering uncertainly before gently helping her sit up. “I’m here,” he said softly. “I… I had to see you.”

Melanie’s gaze softened, though her exhaustion was evident. “You’ve never come to me before. Not without him sending you.”

Callen looked away, shame flickering across his face. “I know. I should have come sooner.”

For a moment, there was only silence between them, the weight of unspoken words filling the room.

Finally, Melanie spoke, her voice weak but steady. “Why are you here, Callen?”

He hesitated, then met her gaze. “I want to help you.”

Melanie’s brows furrowed. “Help me? How?”

Callen swallowed hard. “The poison… I’ve heard the guards talk about it. There are herbs that can counter it, aren’t there?”

Melanie’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across her face. “Yes, but your father—”

“I don’t care what he wants,” Callen interrupted, his voice firm. “I’ve done enough for him. I’ve betrayed enough for him. I won’t let him keep you like this.”

Melanie studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she nodded. “The herbs are rare. They grow in the forest beyond the gates.”

Callen’s jaw tightened. “I’ll get them.”

Melanie reached out, her hand trembling as she rested it on his. “It won’t be easy. The guards will notice if you’re gone too long.”

“I’ll find a way,” Callen said, determination burning in his eyes. “I owe you that much.”

Melanie’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though tears glistened in her eyes. “You’re my son, Callen. You don’t owe me anything. But… thank you.”

For the first time in years, Callen felt something stir in his chest—a sense of purpose, of redemption.

He would help her.

No matter the cost.

Callen left his mother the same way he had entered—moving swiftly, silently, ensuring no trace of his presence remained.

Before slipping away, he made sure Melanie was tucked into bed, her frail body resting as peacefully as it could.

He placed the potion beside her, the one she had refused from Alex.

She needed her strength back.

If she was ever going to escape, if she was ever going to fight back, she had to recover first.

Callen watched her for a moment, studying her weakened form, the woman who had been kept from him for so long.

She had suffered. Far too much.

And he would not let her suffer any longer.

With that silent promise, he turned and slipped out the way he had come, moving through the halls with purpose.

He had three rare ingredients to find.

And he wouldn’t fail. Callen moved swiftly through the palace corridors, his footsteps careful, his heart pounding with every step toward the gates.

He had a plan—one that needed to work if he was to gather the first ingredient: Bloodshade Blossom.

The crimson flower only bloomed under the full moon, hidden deep within the Forbidden Forest, a place where whispers of the past lingered in the trees and the shadows never quite felt empty. No one ventured there willingly.

He reached the outer gates, scanning the path beyond. Guards patrolled in shifts, but Callen knew their routines—knew the gaps in their movements, the moments where shadows swallowed their presence.

And so, when the nearest guard turned away, Callen darted forward, slipping into the darkness beyond the walls.

The forest greeted him with a suffocating silence.

Tall, twisted trees loomed overhead, their branches tangling like skeletal fingers, forming a canopy that blocked even the moonlight in certain places.

This was the first time he had stepped past the kingdom’s borders alone.

The weight of that realization settled into his bones.

He gripped the small dagger at his hip, not for battle, but for reassurance. Not even royal blood could protect him here.

Pushing forward, he focused on what his mother had told him—the Bloodshade Blossom grew in places where the land had once been soaked in sorrow, in ancient battlefields long forgotten.

Callen steeled himself and pressed deeper into the woods, his breathing steady.

Then… he heard it.

A soft rustling, barely perceptible.

Not the wind.

Something else.

Callen froze, tightening his grip on the dagger. The shadows shifted. The air thickened.

He wasn’t alone.

And whatever lurked in the forest was watching him.