CHAPTER 18: IN THE SHADOWS

Meanwhile, Sylas still faced dangers he had never imagined before. He was born under Adrien’s rule, surrounded by comforts. His father had ensured he had everything he needed—within certain limits—so he wouldn’t become spoiled and would understand his responsibilities as the heir to the throne. Everyone obeyed him, and Sylas felt safe wherever he was.

But now, for the first time, he was extremely cautious, even when taking a single step. They were on the outskirts of the capital. Though it wasn’t obvious, there were many guards at every corner.

Alvaro was extremely worried. At a time like this, his responsibility was immense. The safety of the kingdom’s heir was in his hands. He repeatedly pulled Sylas into hiding behind a tree or a wall.

As they passed a house, Alvaro grabbed a black cloth hanging out to dry in the yard. He handed it to Sylas. Their clothes were too conspicuous, even though they had already changed into simple attire before leaving the palace.

Alvaro quickly hid Sylas’s white robe along with his own. For the first time, he felt the need for the guards’ protection. They had deliberately sent them away when they decided to roam freely.

But now look, they were in trouble!

"Damn it!" Alvaro grumbled angrily, glaring at two palace guards passing by in the alley where they were hiding.

"I really don’t know what’s happening," Alvaro muttered. He recognized some of the guards, but didn’t want to take risks.

"We have to be careful. I don’t know if they’re enemies or allies," Alvaro said sharply, his eyes scanning every movement in the distance.

Sylas felt there was no hope of passing through the capital at this point. Meanwhile, night had fallen. They had to find a place to rest. But they knew the inns weren’t safe.

"Are you tired?" Alvaro asked. They had been hiding all day, and they hadn’t even had time to eat. He could see the prince’s pale face.

"Don’t worry about me. We should find a place to rest," Sylas said, trying not to make Alvaro more worried. The man had been restless the whole time. Sylas had never seen him this anxious.

"We should go back. The capital won’t be safe. We can find an empty house in Randan." Alvaro pulled Sylas’s hand. They had left their horses far away, near the market.

But to reach Randan village, they needed horses, as they had to pass through the forest.

"I’ve never seen guards stationed at every corner like this," Sylas said as he mounted his horse.

Alvaro made sure their surroundings were clear before signaling Sylas to follow. They searched for a narrow path and avoided the main road. This made the journey longer because the roads were dark and unlit. They relied solely on the moonlight.

Alvaro felt relieved when they finally reached the edge of the forest. He kept looking back to make sure Sylas was behind him. His eyes were fixed sharply ahead as he controlled his horse’s pace. However, he was startled when something caught his eye.

So fast!

Alvaro reflexively turned his head, and in the next split second, he saw an arrow heading toward him. His eyes widened—it was aimed directly at his head.

Alvaro jerked his horse back in shock, causing it to neigh loudly and rear up on its hind legs.

The arrow whizzed past him, piercing the trunk of a tree to his right.

"Damn!" he cursed.

He didn’t think about anything else, not even himself. He pulled his horse back to shield Sylas and pushed the prince’s horse behind the large trees.

Sylas saw everything and quickly guided his horse in the direction Alvaro had instructed.

Another arrow flew, embedding itself in a tree trunk in front of them.

Then another.

A barrage of arrows rained down on them.

"They’re surrounding us!" Alvaro whispered, trying not to panic. But he couldn’t see anything in the dark shadows. There were too many arrows flying around them. One would find his skull if he wasn’t careful.

The horses neighed as arrows struck their bodies. Sylas was startled as his horse bucked from the pain. He reflexively moved to control it, but Alvaro quickly pulled him in another direction.

Sylas clenched his fists as he heard the horses screaming. He closed his eyes and followed Alvaro’s lead. He was truly sick of whoever was doing this to him.

Alvaro stopped abruptly, pulling Sylas until the prince’s body bumped into the thick trunk of the tree that shielded them.

"What’s going on?" Sylas whispered. The arrows had stopped.

But now, they were replaced by the sound of many horse hooves.

Alvaro placed a finger on his lips, signaling Sylas to be quiet. On the dark road, several mounted soldiers moved back and forth.

"I’m sure they’re here!"

"I found their horses!"

"FIND THEM!!"

The cavalry moved again. Horse hooves grew louder, shaking the ground.

Alvaro clenched his fists. "That’s the Shadow Army. Prince Virouse’s men," he whispered.

Sylas immediately understood. Virouse was his uncle. But he was more concerned about his father. If Virouse was moving and assigning shadow troops, it meant the palace was in danger.

Alvaro wasn’t thinking about anything else at that moment. They had to get out of there. He pulled Sylas’s hand and led him deeper into the forest.

***

John looked at the old doctor carefully as he wrapped Hein’s shoulder.

"Will he be okay?" John asked. Though he was accustomed to many deaths, each one still made him uncomfortable and left him traumatized. He had witnessed Laid’s death earlier that morning. Now he had to tend to Hein, who had lost his left arm so dramatically.

The old doctor sighed. "I managed to stop the bleeding. This is worse than what happened this morning."

John nodded. "I don’t know—Master’s mood isn’t good."

The old doctor spoke. "I told you to be careful when speaking. He might not show it, but he can hear you from a distance."

John smiled. "Of course. I know that, Ibran." Ibran was the descendant of a renowned doctor whose family traveled across different kingdoms offering medical assistance.

John met Ibran when the doctor was young. His arrival had been warmly welcomed in the village. The villagers were grateful that Ibran had chosen to settle there.

There were many rumors that Ibran was a witch’s son. His father was a doctor who had married a witch. His father ensured he received a high-level education to become a doctor. As for his mother, her whereabouts remained unknown.

But those were just rumors, given how mysterious the doctor was—except when it came to his patients. Ibran rarely spoke and didn’t socialize.

Ibran handed John some potions. "Make sure he drinks them. Even if he’s unconscious, ensure they go into his stomach."

John took the potions. Then he looked at Hein, who was pale and breathing slowly. "Poor guy. I wonder what actually happened between him and the new slave."

Ibran chuckled. "You always have new slaves," he said.

John shrugged. "Not usually. This year’s been bad. Many slaves were injured or killed."

Ibran was used to it. So he said nothing more. He didn’t even want to remember how he had come to Vlad’s manor to treat someone.

The man’s gaze had been so cold and piercing. He stayed with Ibran all night, never letting him rest. That was the first time he had seen the vampire’s figure.

Perhaps it was thirty years ago. He had only seen him a few times after that—until the man died. And on that day, he saw an expression completely different from before. Darker, but also fragile.

Ibran realized something then: the vampire had feelings too. Perhaps his heart had broken when the one he had been protecting died.