CHAPTER 549: THE BLASTS AND THE DISAPPEARANCE

[Moments before the explosion...]

"Woof! Woof!"

Rhen’s sharp barking echoed through the garden, followed by a low growl as the puppy’s gaze fixed on the tall bushes ahead.

Jessy tightened her grip on the leash, sighing as she held the agitated pup back.

"I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s been acting like this since yesterday," she said, worry edging her tone.

"Maybe the lockdown is making him restless," Damon suggested, glancing towards the puppy. "A lively dog like him isn’t used to confinement. From what I’ve seen, Armel often lets him out to play."

"Perhaps... but I’m not so sure," Jessy replied. "This isn’t my first time taking care of Rhen. He was fine the last time Armel left him with me when he followed Mr Amares to Rivendelle. There were days we couldn’t go out because of the weather, but he was never this cranky."

"It was a different place back then," Damon reasoned. "He had Princess Laura and Princess Lilith to keep him company indoors. Surely that made things easier."

Jessy sighed.

"I suppose you’re right."

Still, Rhen’s barking didn’t cease. It only grew louder; his body was tense, and his tail was stiff. An uneasy feeling hung in the air.

"Pass me the leash," Damon said, holding out his hand. "Let me walk him for a bit. Maybe he’ll calm down."

"Right," Jessy agreed, though a hint of doubt lingered.

Rhen was known to prefer the company of women and children. Most men made him uneasy—except for Armel and Eli.

The only other person he never feared was Kyren. Some said it was because the grand duke often carried the faint scent of Anna, the one who had rescued Rhen from the forest.

Just as Damon was about to pick up the leash, the puppy suddenly jerked forward, barking loudly. The strap slipped from Jessy’s grasp, dragging on the ground as the puppy bolted directly into the thicket.

"Rhen!" Jessy gasped.

"Don’t worry, I’ll get him. Stay here!" Damon called as he dashed after the runaway pup.

"Hurry, Sir McQuinn! He’s getting away!"

"Oh no, he won’t!" the knight replied, pushing through the brush.

Rhen darted through the dense foliage, nimble and determined.

Damon followed as best he could, but the thick branches and uneven ground slowed him down. The puppy slipped in and out of sight, the sound of snapping twigs and rustling leaves marking his path.

"D*mn it, this dog! Why are you giving me such a hard time?" Damon cursed as he shoved aside the branches scratching at his face.

Leaves crackled underfoot as he pushed deeper into the thicket, following the faint sound of Rhen’s barks.

They had reached the isolated rear of the main building—an overgrown, forgotten part of the mansion where few ever ventured. The air was still, heavy with the scent of damp soil and old wood mixed with the snow.

Then, without warning—

’Duuumm!!’

A deafening blast tore through the air.

The ground trembled violently beneath his boots, throwing Damon off balance. His ears rang as the shockwave rolled past, scattering loose dirt and rustling the trees.

"What the h*ll was that?!" he shouted, heart hammering.

The sound froze him mid-step.

A plume of thick, black smoke rose high into the pale winter sky, darkening the horizon.

For a heartbeat, he could only stare, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat. He stumbled backwards a few paces, moving out from behind the building to get a clearer view.

Then he saw it. The eastern tower, engulfed in flame.

’Boom! Badaboom!’

The second and third explosions followed in quick succession, shaking the ground with brutal force.

The shockwave slammed into him, driving him to his knees. Pebbles and debris rattled across the ground; the air itself seemed to shudder.

Damon instinctively crouched low, one arm shielding his head.

From the trees, a startled flock of birds burst into the air, their frantic cries piercing through the chaos.

Soon, the air grew thick with the acrid stench of burning metal and charred wood. The wind carried drifting ash from the explosion, scattering it across the silent garden like grey snow.

Fortunately, the ground where Damon stood remained untouched by the blast—though the faint tremor still hummed beneath his boots.

He pushed himself upright, heart pounding in his chest, listening for any further detonations. When none came, he exhaled shakily, though the tension refused to leave his body.

As he turned toward the tower, a surge of dread overtook him when his gaze locked onto the column of smoke billowing into the sky.

Sections of the building had already collapsed, consumed by the hungry fire that devoured the structure. Wild flame crawled fast, and as the wind blew up, it began to spread towards the knights’ quarters.

"Oh God, I must help them!" Damon exclaimed.

He had to get there now. The fastest way to the married couple quarters was through the dense bushes ahead, a shortcut that would save precious minutes compared to circling the main building.

Without hesitation, he plunged into the thicket. Branches clawed at his cloak, and snow crunched under his boots.

The runaway puppy vanished from his thoughts. There was no time for that now—his only concern was the fire that had erupted after the explosion.

But as he broke through the last of the brush and stumbled into a secluded clearing behind the main building, he froze.

A door stood wide open against the wall, showing an odd, narrow service entrance that was rarely used.

His brow furrowed.

Why was that door open?

During the lockdown, all side passages were meant to be sealed and guarded. This specific door—he vaguely remembered—led to the grand duke’s library, the one Anna used to exit the main building and join Kyren’s admirers’ gathering in the past.

Caution prickled through his veins. Though urgency urged him toward the fire, something about this felt wrong.

He moved closer, observing the ground before the entrance and along the path inside from the threshold. It appeared to have been used recently. The knight wondered if anyone might have escaped through here after the explosion, but that seemed unlikely.

This passage was reserved exclusively for the Grand Duke and his wife, not for general use. Besides, the incident had occurred at the eastern tower, far from this wing. There were other, more direct routes to safety than this secluded door.

Damon’s gaze dropped to the ground. The snow and damp soil bore clear impressions of boot prints.

Two sets, large and deep, likely belonging to men. They led into the doorway... and out again. But there was more.

Beside them were two smaller sets of women’s shoe prints, judging by their size and shape. The marks overlapped unevenly, as if the women had stumbled or resisted being pulled along.

"What on earth..." Damon muttered, crouching down to examine the tracks.

The men’s strides were firm and deliberate, whilst the women’s were uneven and most likely dragged.

Immediately, his gut tightened. Something had happened here.

Then, a glint caught his eye. Near the bushes to his right, half-buried in the snow, something small sparkled in the weak daylight. He strode toward it, crouched, and picked it up.

Damon’s breath caught.

It was a pendant, a delicate silver charm he recognised instantly.

"Miss Reed..." he whispered.

Helen Reed’s. There was no mistaking it. She wore it almost every day, even during her chores.

He’d noticed it countless times, how the little pendant caught the light when she moved. There was no reason for her to leave it here, of all places.

His fingers clenched around it. Memories flashed—his shy confession, her firm rejection, and the way she had since avoided him at every turn.

Even so, Damon had never stopped watching over her from afar, knowing her entire schedule and whereabouts, waiting for the perfect moment to reapproach her. The other knights teased him for his persistence, calling him ’Sir Devoted,’ yet none doubted his sincerity.

He rose slowly, his gaze hardening as he turned back to the open door. Someone had taken her and another woman. Two men... no doubt.

The pattern of the tracks, the forced steps and the panic clicked into place in his mind.

"If Miss Reed was dragged out..." Damon’s breath hitched.

His eyes widened in horror as realisation struck. "Then the other woman—"

He staggered back a step, voice trembling.

"My God... It’s Lady Raychard!"

Damon turned toward the bushes where the pendant was found and scanned the ground below, his eyes darting frantically as he searched for clues.

The shoeprints near the thicket were still fresh, pressed deep into the damp soil under the shades, unblurred by wind or snow. Whoever these men were, they hadn’t left long ago.

His heart pounded. He needed to find them before they disappeared for good.

The other knights and guards could handle the fire, but these ladies—if his suspicions were correct—were in far graver danger.

No one else seemed to have noticed their absence. The explosion... the fire... it all began to fit together in his mind.

This wasn’t a coincidence, but it was a diversion—a calculated scheme to draw everyone’s attention to the eastern tower while the real crime unfolded here, beyond anyone’s knowledge.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "This must be Lord Morro and his magic practitioner! They planned this from the start!"

Without a second thought, he sprinted in the direction of the tracks. Branches clawed at his armour as he plunged through the dense bushes, following the uneven imprints etched into the damp ground.

"Hold on, Miss Reed... Lady Raychard... I’m coming," he muttered, heart pounding with urgency.

One was the woman he loved, the other, the woman he deeply respected. He would not lose either. He had to reach the kidnappers before it was too late.

But Damon failed to notice. The moment his boots struck the first print beneath the bushes, every trace of the trail vanished, erased as though it had never existed.