CHAPTER 44: THE BLIND KING

"It’s not safe to take her with us."

The next day, he tried to convince the king and queen to change their minds about bringing Ana along.

But no matter how hard he pushed, they kept repeating the same thing—

"She’ll be fine."

"She’ll be safe."

It was starting to frustrate him.

Then the door creaked open.

Ana stepped inside.

Quiet—so quiet Sylas barely noticed her at first.

The soft look she’d worn these past few weeks vanished the moment their eyes met.

It was gone and replaced by something cold.

Silent.

"How much did you hear?"

The words slipped out, softer than he intended—because the way she looked at him didn’t spark fear... it felt like death, quiet and cold, like he no longer existed in her eyes.

Her eyes cut through him. Sharp. Steady.

She walked past the king and queen, stopped beside him—then kicked him in the shin and ran out of the room.

His eyes never left hers.

And as she ran out, he caught it—her eyes, wet with tears.

Only then did it hit him.

He had hurt her feelings.

Somehow.

And he didn’t even know how.

He turned toward the king and queen.

"Did I say something wrong?"

They just stared at each other, smiling.

King Kael chuckled, leaning back.

"You know... for a man who swings a sword like a god, you’re blind when it comes to women."

Sylas didn’t argue.

He knew it was true.

He’d never understood how women felt.

That’s why he hadn’t noticed when Lancelot and Guinevere betrayed him.

He let out a laugh—so loud it nearly tipped him off the chair.

"You’re so right," he said, steadying himself with one hand.

Still grinning, completely unaware.

"So... why was she so upset?"

The king and queen looked at him.

They glance at each other, then looked back at him.

"You’re joking... right?" Queen Lisa asked quietly.

It was the look you gave someone when you realized they were hopeless.

"You see, Sylas... our people adore strong men."

Her gaze shifted to King Kael.

They locked eyes.

Soft. Silent.

Like she was falling for him all over again.

"That’s why I married him."

A small smile touched her lips.

"Because he was strong."

Sylas blinked.

And the meaning clicked.

"Oh... Luis is really strong," he blurted, trying to steer the conversation somewhere—anywhere—else.

But the king and queen weren’t fooled.

They exchanged another glance—this one sharper.

"We’ve canceled their engagement," the king said.

Sylas lowered his head, avoiding their eyes.

He stayed quiet for a while, then he spoke. His tone was low, almost hesitant.

"Can I ask you something?"

The king and queen turned to him.

"What is it?"

Their tone held confusion—and curiosity.

"If you had the choice... would you rather know when you’ll die... or how?"

There was a pause.

The queen turned to her husband, unsure what kind of question this was.

King Kael didn’t hesitate.

He answered calmly.

"How."

"If I knew how, I’d face it head-on. Prepare for it. Accept it.

Knowing the day would just make me anxious... just sitting there, watching time run out."

He looked at Sylas.

"And you?"

Sylas lifted his head.

"When."

He said it without pause.

"Because then I’d know how much time I have left. I could push harder toward my goal."

The queen’s smile faded.

Kael leaned back, eyes on the ceiling—like he was holding back tears.

Sylas went on.

"I don’t want the people I leave behind to spend their lives asking why I couldn’t stay."

He glanced toward the door Ana had walked through.

"I can overcome death... again and again. But when that final day comes... I won’t be able to fight it."

He paused.

"I know what it’s like... to be alone."

His eyes dropped to the floor—distant.

"To lose the one person who mattered most."

A breath caught in his throat.

"And that feeling...

I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Especially not if it’s because of me."

"You’re overthinking it," the king muttered, trying to soften the mood.

"Nobody truly knows when they’ll die. It’s all fate."

But Sylas looked up.

His eyes met theirs—tears in them. Silent. Steady.

And still... he smiled.

"Not in my case," he said quietly.

"I already know when I’ll die."

Their expressions changed instantly.

The lightness vanished.

Eyes widened. Faces darkened.

Like they couldn’t tell if he was joking... or dead serious.

Kael let out a shaky laugh.

"You’re joking... right?"

Sylas didn’t answer.

He just smiled.

A broken smile.

The kind you wear when you’ve already made peace with the end.

The queen stepped forward—

and embraced him like a mother.

After a moment, she let him go.

Sylas rose to his feet.

"Please keep this between us," he said softly.

"Especially from Ana."

Knock, knock.

That night, he stood outside her door.

He didn’t know why he was doing this.

Maybe it was guilt.

Maybe something else.

But it was bothering him.

He couldn’t sleep.

Her voice snapped from inside.

"Go away!"

He didn’t.

"If I’m going to take you with us," he muttered,

"at least let me make sure I can keep you safe."

A moment passed.

Then the door creaked open.

He stepped inside slowly.

She lowered her head and leaned against his chest.

She didn’t look at him.

She just stood there—silent.

He didn’t move.

Then he raised his hand and placed it on her head.

"Let me do for you what I did for Lucian."

A pause.

"I’m sorry," he whispered.

"It’s not that I didn’t want you to come."

He paused, drew a slow, quiet breath.

"It’s just... we might be walking into a trap.

And I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you because of me."

He placed his hand on Ana’s chest and activated his King’s Blessing.

Because she was an enchanter, it helped her energy flow better.

Golden light crawled across her skin like veins of fire.

Then it burst outward.

Radiance erupted from her body, flooding through the cracks in the door.

It poured from the windows like a second sun—

blinding. Overwhelming.

The entire kingdom froze.

Guards stopped mid-step.

Servants dropped what they were holding.

People looked to the sky, convinced dawn had arrived hours too early.

Lucian was the first to move.

He sprinted through the halls.

King Kael and the queen followed close behind—breathless, eyes wide.

When they reached the door, Lucian didn’t knock.

He slammed it open.

And what they saw stopped them in their tracks.

Ana hovered inches above the bed, wrapped in light.

Golden energy pulsed through her like blood made of flame.

Her hair floated. Her eyes were closed. Her face—peaceful.

And beside her stood Sylas.

Arm extended. Calm. Steady.

The room felt warm. Alive. Sacred.

No one spoke.

They just watched.

Then the king stepped forward, voice low with disbelief.

"You did it again..."

He paused. Then, sharper:

"How many more times can you do this?

How many people... can you give your blessing to?"

Sylas gently pulled the blanket over Ana’s sleeping form.

She glowed faintly, her breath calm. Her expression soft.

He watched her a moment longer.

Then whispered:

"As many as I want."

It wasn’t trying to be arrogant or to brag.

It was just the truth.

Heavy with power.

King Kael stared, stunned.

"That means..." he muttered,

"You could build an army. An unstoppable one."

A slow smile crept onto his face—half admiration, half disbelief.

But Sylas didn’t smile.

He shook his head.

"I won’t do that."

He turned toward them.

His gold-ringed eyes were dim now.

"This power... it’s not for everyone.

I only lend it to those who are worthy.

Those who won’t twist it for themselves."

His gaze shifted to Lucian.

And Lucian understood what he meant.

Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee.

"Thank you, Sir Sylas," he said, voice firm.

"I won’t disappoint you."

Sylas smiled.

It was small—but full of quiet pride.

"I know.

That’s why I chose you."

Then he looked to the king and queen.

His voice calm. Measured.

"Power doesn’t change people.

It reveals them."

He stepped forward. Each step slow. Deliberate.

"Even the humblest man... once given strength...

can become a monster."

The next day, they prepared to leave for Selvaran.

Sylas dressed in torn, ragged clothes—trying to disguise himself as a commoner.

As they passed through the city, the people stopped what they were doing.

And stared at him in fear.

They didn’t celebrate him anymore.

Mothers pulled their children close.

Men looked away.

Then he turned—slowly—and faced them.

His voice was calm. But it carried power.

"I don’t know why you all fear me," he said.

"But it doesn’t matter."

No one moved.

He looked around—at the faces that once smiled at him. At the ones that now kept their distance.

"While I won’t be here to protect you... please, learn to fight."

He didn’t shout.

He just said it like it was the only truth that mattered.

"I’m not telling you to fight for the kingdom. Or to die for it.

Do it so your wives... your children... can live a life that isn’t soaked in blood."

They all stayed still. Just listening.

"If you choose to become a warrior..." he raised a hand—pointed at Lucian.

"Follow him. Let him guide you.

Because if you fail—then the people you love... will fall too."

A few people looked at Lucian.

A child clutched her father’s sleeve.

Someone whispered his name.

The fear didn’t vanish.

But something changed.

Their eyes didn’t look away anymore.

Some stood straighter.

Some nodded.

They still felt fear.

But now, they respected him more.

And with that...

Sylas turned.

And walked out of the kingdom.

No one applauded or cheered.

Just silence.