Married To Darkness-Chapter 450: Knights To The Castle

The moon hung high over the roof of the stone cottage nestled just past the mountain’s lower ridges. Soft candlelight glowed from the slitted windows, casting long shadows into the quiet night. The air was brisk, sweetened by pine and wet earth, as two armored men moved through the yard just outside.

The sun was just a whisper beneath the horizon, its golden blush casting long shadows over the cragged hills surrounding Sebastian’s secluded retreat. It was quiet here—too quiet for the men who’d been bred for battle and bred again by loyalty.

Knight Jaefel adjusted the straps of his armor with slow, deliberate hands, his breath visible in the chilly morning air. Across from him, Samion swung his sword in wide arcs, his footwork sharp despite the dirt terrain. The soft whoosh of steel slicing through wind echoed between the trees, like a hymn to war and honor.

A few feet away, leaning on a carved stone rail, Heappal sat wrapped in layers of wool and furs. His complexion was no longer ghost-pale but the color of burnt honey, his lips no longer cracked, his breath no longer labored. The days under the physician’s care had not returned him to full strength, but he had begun to smile again, even if only a little.

"You two are making me feel useless," Heappal muttered, brushing strands of hair from his eyes. "Training while I sit here like a wounded duck."

"You’re a hawk, not a duck," Jaefel said, smiling over his shoulder. "Even hawks rest their wings when the storm is long."

"He likes sounding poetic," Samion added between swings. "Don’t encourage him."

They chuckled together, that rare sound that only camaraderie forged in battle could produce.

Jaefel and Samion were locked in sparring again, but there was no real anger in their swings—only rhythm, a need to stay sharp. A need to prepare.

"You’re favoring your right too much," Samion said, twisting mid-parry to shove Jaefel off-balance.

"And you’re still terrible at footwork," Jaefel replied with a grin, spinning back with a sweeping motion that Samion ducked under easily. Their blades hissed as they clashed, steel against steel.

A cough interrupted them.

It was then the creak of the wooden gate caught their attention. The old physician stood at the edge of the porch in his weathered cloak, holding a rolled parchment bound with black string. His white brows were furrowed in something unreadable.

"A letter for you," he said, holding it out. "Delivered by... rather peculiar means, I might say."

Samion sheathed his sword and accepted it with a frown. "From whom?"

"You’ll want to read it," the physician said and turned to go inside without another word.

Heappal was awake now.

Jaefel moved to stand beside his brother-in-arms as Samion carefully untied the ribbon and unrolled the letter. The wax seal broke under his thumb.

To my trusted knights,

The time has come.

Leave immediately and travel under nightfall to Wyfkeep Castle.

We ride at dawn to make our stand.

Bring Heappal—if he is strong enough.

If not, you will carry him.

We reunite in three days.

May honor and gods keep you safe.

—Third Prince Alaric. (should I be writing his name?)ha!

Samion read the words aloud, his voice quiet but full of weight. The wind rustled the trees around them like a breath of the divine.

Jaefel was the first to break the silence. "So it begins."

"I thought it never would," Samion said, rolling the letter closed again.

The door behind them creaked open, and a third voice, raspier and soft, called out, "Well, I’m not staying behind, if that’s what you’re thinking."

They turned to see Heappal standing just outside the doorway. He looked pale, and the bandages on his shoulder peeked through the open collar of his tunic. But his back was straight, and his eyes burned with something fierce and clear.

"You’re still healing," Jaefel warned, though his heart lifted at the sight.

"Then we’ll take it slow," Heappal replied, stepping down the porch steps. "But I will not be left behind while the others stand and I lie in bed."

"You’ll slow us down," Samion said, though his voice was full of fondness rather than scolding.

"Then carry me if you must," Heappal challenged. "But my sword will be in my hand when we reach that castle."

Jaefel gave him a long look. Then, slowly, a smile bloomed on his face. "You ready?"

Heappal looked at them both, then past them—toward the forest trail that would take them to the open road and toward Wyfkeep Castle.

"Yes," he said with certainty. "I’m ready."

Inside the building, the physician prepared travel salves and tucked jars into the bags they would carry. Heappal came inside to gather his gear, the physician moving to his side like a hovering shadow.

"You’ll open your wound again," the old man said.

"Better my wound than the world’s," Heappal replied. "This is bigger than me now."

The physician grunted, clearly unimpressed with poetic responses. But he offered no protest. Only pressed a bottle of something sharp-smelling into Heappal’s palm.

"Drink it when the pain catches up to you."

"Thank you... for everything," Heappal said sincerely.

The old man only nodded, his expression unreadable again, then turned to hand Jaefel a pouch of herbs and Samion a bandage roll. "If he so much as coughs blood, stop."

"No promises," Jaefel murmured as they helped Heappal secure his armor.

By midnight, they had mounted.

Samion’s horse snorted, sensing the tension in the air. Jaefel tightened the strap across his saddle, his eyes scanning the tree line.

Heappal mounted last, his breath shallow but determined. His sword was strapped to his back. His armor was lighter than usual, but he wore it like it was battle-forged.

The road ahead shimmered faintly under moonlight, winding into the unknown.

"Do you think our prince will truly be able to settle without making his move?" Samion asked as they began to ride.

"He doesn’t write letters unless the world is about to shift," Jaefel said.

"I’ve missed them," Heappal said quietly. "The princess. Jean. Even Lucius. And Thalia... Tell me she’s safe."

"She is," Jaefel said. "Last we heard."

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