Chapter 7

Across the vast lands of the Aurevane Empire stood its magnificent capital, Caeloria.

The Imperial City was a place of towering white castles, grand gardens, golden domes, and streets filled with merchants from every province. At its heart stood the Imperial Palace, where the Aurevane royal family had ruled for generations.

But behind those magnificent walls, something was terribly wrong.

The Emperor of Aurevane had not awakened.

For days, he had remained in his bed, completely still.

His breathing was steady.

His heart still beat.

Yet no matter how many times the royal physicians called his name, he never opened his eyes.

"His Majesty's condition has not changed."

The priest lowered his head as he delivered the news.

Around the king's bed stood several priests and saintesses, each taking turns praying, healing, and examining him.

They had used every blessing they possessed.

Nothing worked.

At the foot of the bed stood the king's son, Prince Lucien Aurevane.

He had barely slept since his father collapsed.

"How long?" Lucien asked quietly.

The oldest priest looked at him.

"We cannot say, Your Highness."

Lucien's hands tightened.

"You are priests of the Imperial Temple."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"And these are the empire's greatest saintesses."

The room fell silent.

Lucien looked toward the women surrounding his father's bed.

"Then why can't any of you wake him?"

No one answered.

One of the saintesses lowered her head.

Her voice trembled.

"Whatever holds His Majesty…" She looked toward the sleeping king. "…is not something we understand."

Lucien stepped closer to his father's bed. "Then understand it."

The words were quiet, but every person in the room heard them.

"I don't care how long it takes."

He looked at the priests.

"I don't care how many prayers must be spoken."

Then his eyes moved toward the saintesses. "Or how many times you must try."

He reached for his father's hand.

It was warm.

Alive.

Yet completely unresponsive.

"Wake him."

The priests immediately bowed.

"Yes, Your Highness."

And once again, the prayers began.

Light filled the chamber.

The saintesses placed their hands over the king's body, pouring their divine power into him.

For a brief moment, the room brightened.

Then—

nothing.

The light disappeared.

The king remained asleep.

Lucien stared at him.

For the first time, fear crossed the prince's face.

Because this was no ordinary illness.

Something had put the Emperor of Aurevane into an endless sleep.

And somewhere beyond Caeloria's walls, the answer to what had happened to him might already be moving closer to the empire.

The prayers continued softly around the chamber.

Prince Lucien remained beside his father's bed, staring at the motionless figure beneath the white sheets.

Then a voice came from behind him.

"Your Highness."

Lucien turned.

A tall lord stood several steps away, his expression grave.

"Lord Cedran," Lucien said. "What is it?"

The lord approached and bowed.

"We have tried nearly every physician known throughout the empire."

Lucien's expression hardened.

"None of them can determine why His Majesty has not regained consciousness."

Lucien looked back at his father. "The priests and saintesses have failed as well."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Lord Cedran hesitated before continuing. "May I suggest another possibility?"

Lucien turned toward him.

"What?"

"An apothecary."

The room fell silent.

One of the priests looked up in disbelief. "An apothecary?"

Lord Cedran nodded. "Not an ordinary one."

Lucien studied him.

Cedran lowered his voice, and glanced toward the sleeping emperor. "Perhaps it is time to search beyond what we know."

Lucien was silent.

"Where would you find such an apothecary?"

"That is the difficult part."

Cedran's expression became thoughtful.

"There are healers scattered throughout the empire. Some live in remote provinces. Some refuse to serve the nobility. And there are others whose abilities are known only through rumors."

Lucien's eyes narrowed. "Rumors?"

"Yes."

Cedran bowed his head.

"But if Your Highness permits me, I would like to search for one."

Lucien looked at his father again.

At this point, he had nothing left to lose.

"Then search."

Cedran raised his head.

"Your Highness?"

"Find me an apothecary."

Lucien's voice was firm. "Anyone who might be able to wake my father."

The lord bowed deeply.

"Yes, Your Highness."

But before he could take another step, a priest spoke.

"No."

The chamber fell silent.

Lucien slowly turned.

The High Priest stood near the king's bedside, his expression firm.

"Your Highness, I cannot allow this."

Lucien's eyes narrowed.

"And why not?"

"You are speaking of forbidden healers."

The priest glanced toward the sleeping emperor.

"Our faith does not recognize healing that comes from practices outside the sacred blessing."

Lord Cedran frowned.

"We have already tried every sacred method available to us."

"That does not give us permission to abandon our beliefs."

Lucien looked between them. "My father has been unconscious for days."

The priest bowed his head.

"We understand, Your Highness."

"Then what exactly do you suggest?"

The priest hesitated.

"More prayers. More blessings. More time."

Lucien's expression hardened.

"Time?"

His voice was quiet.

"How much more time should I give him while he lies there unable to wake?"

The priest said nothing.

Lucien looked toward his father.

"I have watched physicians fail. I have watched saintesses exhaust themselves. I have watched priests pray until they could barely stand."

His gaze returned to the High Priest.

"And you are telling me to simply wait?"

"We are telling you to remain faithful."

Lucien's jaw tightened.

Lord Cedran spoke carefully.

"Your Highness, there may be healers whose methods are forbidden by the temple, but that does not mean they are incapable of helping His Majesty."

The priest turned toward him.

"You would bring forbidden magic into the Imperial Palace?"

"I would bring someone who might save the Emperor."

"That is precisely what we cannot permit."

Lucien stood between them.

For several moments, no one spoke.

Finally, the prince looked at the sleeping king.

Then he said quietly,

"If the temple cannot wake my father…"

His eyes hardened. "…then I will find someone who can."

The High Priest's expression changed.

"Your Highness—"

"I will not let doctrine decide whether my father lives or dies."

Lucien turned toward Lord Cedran.

"Find the healer."

Lord Cedran bowed.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Behind them, the High Priest watched in silence.

Because if the prince truly found a forbidden healer…

it would not only challenge the temple's beliefs.

Two years had passed since Selene last heard Milo's voice.

Sometimes, she still wondered how he was. Was he still traveling? Was he still living with Gideon? Had he forgotten about her?

Asterfell had become her life again.

But the mountains were changing.

With every passing month, the air grew colder. The winds became sharper, and the nights lasted longer. Even the people who had lived in Asterfell all their lives began preparing earlier for the coming cold.

And with the changing weather came sickness.

One illness became two.

Then five.

Soon, Selene found herself busier than she had ever been.

She spent her mornings gathering herbs, her afternoons preparing medicines, and her evenings moving from one stone house to another to treat those who were too weak to come to her.

Children came with fevers.

The elderly struggled with their breathing.

Some suffered from aching joints and persistent coughs.

Selene rarely had time to rest.

"Merry, I need more dried willow bark."

"I'll bring some."

"And the mountain thyme."

Her hands moved quickly and confidently as she measured herbs and prepared another medicine.

This was the life she knew. Quiet. Simple. Busy.

Yet sometimes, when the wind became particularly strong and the village fell silent, her thoughts wandered south.

To a young man who always complained whenever the road became difficult.

Milo.

She wondered if he was safe.

If he had found what he was looking for.

If the Morcant Order had stopped pursuing him.

And, despite herself, she wondered if he ever thought about her too.

Selene smiled faintly at the thought.

Then another knock sounded at the door.

She sighed.

Another patient.

She tied her lace blindfold more securely and stood.

When she opened it, a finely dressed man stood outside.

He wore a dark traveling coat, polished boots, and a neatly fitted cap that shadowed part of his face. Unlike the villagers who often came seeking medicine, everything about him seemed refined and out of place in the quiet mountains of Asterfell.

The man lowered his cap politely.

"Good afternoon."

Selene tilted her head.

"Good afternoon. How may I help you?"

He gave her a courteous smile.

"I was told there was an apothecary here who could treat almost any illness."

Selene smiled faintly.

"Almost any is an exaggeration."

"Perhaps."

He looked past her toward the small shelves filled with herbs and bottles.

"I came because I need some help."

Selene studied him silently. Even she cannot see but she can observe through voices.

After two years of treating the people of Asterfell, she had learned to recognize the difference between someone who came seeking medicine and someone carrying a much larger problem.

This man was definitely the latter.

"I have come from Caeloria."

Selene's expression changed slightly.

"Caeloria?"

"Yes."

He reached inside his coat and produced a sealed letter bearing the royal crest.

"The Imperial Palace is searching for a healer."

Selene did not take the letter.

"For whom?"

The man's expression became serious.

"For the Emperor."

Silence settled between them.

"The Emperor has been unconscious for two years," he continued. "They have tried every treatment available to them."

Selene's fingers rested against the door.

"And now they have come all the way to Asterfell?"

"Yes."

"Why here?"

"Because someone in Caeloria heard about the ability."

Selene gave a small, tired smile. "Rumors travel farther than people."

The man extended the sealed letter toward her.

"The Imperial Palace is prepared to offer whatever price you name."

Selene finally took the letter.

"Whatever price?"

"Yes."

She turned the envelope between her fingers.

Money had never been something she cared much about.

She had spent years in a small apothecary. In Asterfell, most of the people she treated could barely afford a few coins. She had never asked for much in return.

Selene turned the sealed letter over in her hands.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Then she gently handed it back.

"I can't."

The man's brows lifted.

"You haven't even opened the letter."

"I don't need to."

"You misunderstand me. The Imperial Palace is willing to offer—"

"I only treat mild illnesses."

The words came easily.

The man stared at her.

"Fever. Coughs. Minor infections. A few injuries," Selene continued calmly. "Nothing more."

It was a lie.

A very deliberate one.

She had healed wounds that should have taken months to recover from. She had treated illnesses that other healers had already given up on.

And there were things she could do that and anyone in Asterfell knew.

But Caeloria was different.

She did not want anything to do with the empire.

Years ago, Maura had told her something she had never forgotten.

Her parents were dead. And Caeloria had something to do with it.

Maura had never explained everything. Whenever Selene asked, she would only grow quiet and tell her that some things were better left buried.

But one thing had always been clear.

Never get involved with Caeloria.

Selene had carried those words with her ever since.

She had no desire to find out what would happen if she ignored them.

The man lowered his cap.

"Lady, this is not an ordinary request. The Emperor's life is at stake, they can offer you a gold, land- "

"No."

Selene shook her head.

"I don't want anything from Caeloria."

Her voice remained gentle, but there was no hesitation in it.

The man studied her for a long moment.

"You're refusing the Emperor?"

Selene smiled faintly.

"I'm refusing the job."

She stepped back toward the doorway.

"You traveled a long way. I'm sorry you wasted your journey."

The man looked as though he wanted to argue, but Selene had already begun closing the door.