CHAPTER 546: THE OMINOUS WARNING

His parched lips parted as consciousness slowly surfaced, dragging him out of the depths of a long, heavy slumber.

His chest rose and fell, shallow but steady, while his head shifted weakly against the pillow. Trembling lids fluttered open, fighting against the weight of exhaustion that pressed on him like a boulder.

Saures blinked, his blurred vision gradually adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings.

Dizziness swept over him the moment he tried to focus. Around him, faint light glimmered off polished brass instruments and glass tubes filled with softly glowing liquid.

Pale linen curtains were peeled back and tied to the bedposts, while a faint aroma of herbs blended with a metallic scent in the air, subtly indicating that he was in a treatment facility.

The excruciating pain that once tore through his body was gone, yet a bone-deep weariness still chained him to the bed.

Then, a voice broke through the quiet.

"He’s awake!"

His head turned slowly toward the sound. A figure stood nearby, clad in a distinctive healer’s gown, gloved hands poised, and a mask covering the lower half of his face. Excitement flashed in the man’s eyes.

"Get Mr Amares!" the masked man called out to another healer, who hurried away towards the door.

Confusion clouded Saures’s thoughts as he tried to grasp what had happened. The last thing he remembered was the ferocious strike from the Bargesian leader — the blaze that consumed his comrades, and his own desperate attempt to block the attack despite his failing strength.

"Vae...len... Thal...gar..." he rasped, his voice coarse and broken from a parched throat.

He tried to rise, but the effort was futile. His body refused to obey — drained, unresponsive, and unbearably heavy with exhaustion. With what little strength remained, he attempted to lift his hand, but it trembled and fell back almost immediately.

The door burst open, and a man of authority strode in, followed closely by the healer who had gone to fetch him.

The newcomer approached swiftly with a commanding presence, yet calm. The sight made the already weakened tribesmen’s leader tense in alarm, though his body was too feeble to recoil.

"Don’t force yourself," the man said in a steady tone. "Your body has absorbed an immense amount of mana. That’s why you feel so sluggish now. You need to rest until your energy replenishes."

The voice evoked a faint sense of familiarity in Saures. He was sure he had heard it before, but the healer’s mask concealed his face, hiding the truth.

"Who... who are..." Saures tried to speak, but his parched throat failed him.

He swallowed, wincing as he forced moisture back into his dry mouth.

"Give him some water," Rafe ordered sharply to the nearby healer.

At his command, the healer stepped forward, pouring water from the jug on the side table into a glass before bringing it to Saures.

Another healer gently supported the tribesmen’s leader’s upper body, helping him sit upright so he could drink without choking.

Relief flooded Saures as the cool water slid down his throat, soothing its dryness.

When the healers adjusted the pillows behind him, propping him comfortably against the headboard, his vision cleared enough to take in his surroundings.

Two other beds stood nearby, each occupied by one of his unconscious companions.

Realisation slowly dawned on Saures.

He was safe. These people were not enemies. They had tended to his wounds and cared for his men.

"Thank you," he muttered weakly, but it was enough for Rafe to hear.

"Are you feeling better?" the healer asked.

The tribesmen’s leader frowned, but he nodded anyway.

That voice... it wasn’t unfamiliar. He couldn’t quite place it, but something about the tone stirred recognition. Yet, with the mask concealing the man’s face, certainty eluded him.

Catching the look in Saures’s eyes, Rafe gave a slight nod and reached up, unfastening the mask.

"Apologies," he said with a faint smile. "We’re still taking precautions, though you’re already on the mend."

The moment the mask came off, Saures’s eyes widened. His breath hitched as realisation struck.

"You! The healer!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling from both shock and disbelief.

"Yes, it’s me," Rafe confirmed. "But don’t get too excited yet. You’re still recovering. Your body needs time to regain its strength."

Saures glanced down at himself, hands trembling as he inspected his chest and limbs.

The burns that had once seared through his flesh were gone, vanished without a trace. His skin looked whole again, smooth and unblemished, as though the flames had never touched him.

"How...? The burns..." he whispered, confusion clouding his expression.

The fragmented memories surged back, horribly vivid.

He recalled the cold night when the area suddenly burst into flames. They had been peacefully resting in the quiet surroundings, dozing in their sleep.

Then came the ambush. Brone and Derek strike without mercy. The air had split with the roar of flames, the attack scorching the earth.

Thalgar and Vaelen barely had time to rise. He had tried to shield them, even as the fire engulfed him. The smell of burning flesh, the cries of his men, the cruel laughter of the enemies—it all came crashing back.

And yet... he was here. Alive. Unscarred.

His voice broke, "How did I survive?"

"My wife cast the healing spell on you and your companions with the help of His Highness, the Grand Duke," said Rafe. "I think you would remember her... the Mederian Princess with silver hair and ruby-red eyes. You met her once in the forest, after you saved her brother, Prince Kiev, and Lady Raychard."

Saures furrowed his brows, his mind swimming in fog before a faint light of memory began to pierce through.

The images came back—hazy at first, then clear. The weakened prince with the angelic face, the knight by his side, the unconscious lady... and the howling of wolves echoing through the dark woods.

Then other faces surfaced, the Knight of Gerhards.

"Gerhard mansion!" the tribesmen’s leader suddenly cried, his eyes snapping wide. Panic seized his voice. "Get me Sir Navin, now!"

"Calm down!" Rafe urged, stepping closer. "Sir Navin isn’t here. He’s gone on a mission."

But Saures was no longer listening. His breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body trembling. His hands clutched at the blanket covering him as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

"No! Sir Navin and the knights won’t be able to stop them! They won’t!" he shouted hoarsely, eyes darting frantically around the chamber as if searching for invisible pursuers.

His voice cracked, raw with terror.

"They’re coming! They’re coming!" he screamed, his tone rising to a pitch that made even the healers flinch.

The panic was full-blown now.

His pulse quickened, and sweat beads ran down his temples. He jerked violently, thrashing against the bed as he tried to escape from hands that weren’t actually holding him. His breathing became shallow and rapid, gasping like he was in a fight.

"Hold him down!" Rafe exclaimed, and the healers leapt into action, collectively pinning the tribesman’s leader to prevent him from hurting himself.

Despite their efforts to soothe him, Saures’s cries only grew louder, turning into incoherent ramblings.

His eyes were unfocused, staring at horrors only he could see. His entire body quaked with the echoes of the attack—the fire, the screams, the smell of flesh burning.

"What do we do, Mr Amares?" asked one of the healers. "Mr Corvell went to fetch the special remedies from the lab. Should I go get him?"

"No. He won’t be able to help," said Rafe firmly. "Get me His Highness, the Grand Duke and Admiral Adam James!"

"But... His Highness is still resting—"

"This is an emergency!" Rafe’s sharp command cut through the healer’s protest as he struggled to restrain the panicked tribesman.

"Yes, Mr Amares!" the healer stammered, bolting for the door.

Moments later, the heavy sound of approaching boots echoed down the corridor. The door burst open again, revealing the rand Duke striding in with the Admiral close behind. The healer who fetched them followed, pale and breathless.

Kyren’s appearance was striking. Though his posture remained regal and composed, fatigue clung to him like a shadow.

His usually sharp eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, the aftereffects of the healing ritual still evident in the faint pallor of his face.

This had been the first time his mana was ever channelled into restorative magic, and his body had yet to adjust fully. Still, there was no hesitation in his step, no wavering in his authority.

"Your Highness—" Rafe began, but Kyren raised a hand, stopping him.

"Adam," he said simply.

"Yes, Your Highness," the Admiral replied, already knowing what to do.

In one swift motion, Adam stepped forward. The healers barely had time to move aside before...

’Thud!’

His fist struck squarely against Saures’s jaw. The impact resounded through the chamber, followed by a stunned gasp of breath from the healers. The tribesman’s body stiffened, then slumped slightly, eyes wide with shock.

The outburst stopped instantly. The trembling subsided, replaced by a stunned quiet.

"Thank you, Admiral," said Kyren in a steady voice.

"Most welcome, Your Highness," Adam replied, flexing his hand and rubbing his knuckles with a faint smirk. "Always happy to be of assistance."

The healers appeared shocked by the sudden act of violence, but Rafe quickly regained his composure.

Having witnessed this kind of ’discipline’ during military campaigns and field missions, it didn’t surprise him much. Such an action would have an instant impact that no potion could match, precisely as intended.

"Forgive me, Your Highness," Rafe said, straightening up. "He lost control suddenly, and I thought it was best to call you at once."

"No worries," said Kyren, his tone mild. "In fact, I wanted to see him as soon as he awoke."

The Grand Duke shifted his gaze to Saures, whose laboured breathing was starting to ease. His deep blue eyes fixed on him with an authority that demanded no defiance.

"Now," Kyren said evenly, his voice low but carrying across the chamber, "since you’ve calmed down, let’s speak like civilised men. Tell me what happened to you, and why you reacted like that just now?"

His tone was calm, but beneath it was steel—the kind that made even seasoned warriors think twice before testing his patience.

Saures’s expression crumbled, not from the punch he’d taken, but from something far more profound.

A look of utter defeat and terror clouded his face as tears welled in his eyes. They streamed down his cheeks, glistening down his cheeks as he spoke, his voice trembling with despair.

"The Bargesians..." he rasped. "They will destroy the mansion! They’ll kill everyone... they’ll burn everything to the ground!"

Kyren’s brows furrowed sharply.

"Hold on. Are you referring to the Bargesians who escaped? Lord Brone Morro and Derek Hayes, the mage?"

Saures nodded, his face stricken with anguish.

"If it’s just those two, there’s no need to panic," Adam said confidently. "This is His Highness, the Grand Duke of Gerhard, the finest knight in all of Cassian! He could crush them both with his bare hands."

But the tribesmen’s leader only shook his head violently, eyes wide with dread, even as he looked upon the man known as the Grand Duke. His voice trembled when he finally spoke.

"You don’t understand!" he shouted hoarsely. "They’re after the lady! That Bargesian Leader said it himself that they’ll destroy everything in their path! And they possess power unlike anything you’ve ever seen!"

Kyren’s expression hardened. "What kind of power?" he demanded.

The tribesman met his gaze, eyes glistening with raw intensity.

"Dark magic," he whispered. "So vile... so dreadful... it burns with the fire of hell itself!"

The words sent a chilling silence rippling through the chamber. Rafe, Adam, and Kyren exchanged serious looks.

They had witnessed what dark magic had done to Saures and his men, and the most terrifying threat—the enemies were targeting Anna—it was no empty warning.

At once, Kyren straightened, his jaw set with unyielding resolve. "Then I’ll protect them," he declared firmly.

Saures shook his head relentlessly.

"No! You are not getting this! No mortal can defeat them! Not even you!"

"Yes, I will," Kyren replied, eyes burning with determination. "Gerhard’s mansion will never fall while I still draw breath."

He turned sharply to his men and ordered, "Return to the mansion, now!"

"Yes, Your Highness!" Rafe and Adam answered in unison, already moving toward the door.

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation—the quiet before a coming storm.