The summons arrived at dawn, borne on the wings of a hawk that circled low over the Academy’s spires before dropping the royal missive at Ellie’s feet. She hadn’t slept much. The image of the boy in the infirmary, slipping deeper into his unresponsive state, haunted her like a shadow.
Justine had stayed by his side long into the night, but no amount of healing spells or potions could slow the relentless spread of the illness.
Ellie stood on the terrace, watching the sun crawl over the horizon as she unrolled the scroll, her hands trembling despite the warmth of the morning. The message was brief, written in the clipped, elegant hand of the royal steward.
> Prince Lucius has fallen ill. The King requests your immediate presence at the palace.
For a moment, Ellie couldn’t move. She read the words again, her mind refusing to absorb their full meaning. Prince Lucius—struck down by the same illness that had ravaged the academy. The crown prince, the heir to the throne.
Her heart pounded, the weight of the kingdom’s expectations crashing over her like a wave. She had barely been able to face the victims here—how could she possibly stand before the King and tell him she had no answers?
She dressed quickly, pulling her robes tight around her, their silver trim a stark reminder of the role she had never quite chosen. As she made her way through the halls, the whispers followed her like a low hum, too soft to make out but loud enough to remind her that eyes were on her at every turn.
Elladora was nowhere to be found.
It wasn’t until she reached the stables that she saw the mage council’s envoy waiting for her, a pale man with thin lips who bowed slightly as she approached.
“The carriage is ready, Special Advisor,” he said, avoiding her gaze as he spoke. His formality grated on her nerves—she had never liked the title, had never grown used to the way it seemed to pull a veil of distance between her and everyone else. But now, more than ever, it felt like a cage.
She nodded silently, allowing herself to be ushered into the carriage, its polished wood gleaming in the early light. As the horses clattered out of the academy gates and onto the winding road toward the palace, Ellie felt the knot in her chest tighten with every passing mile.
The journey was a blur. The once-familiar landscape of the kingdom, with its rolling hills and meandering rivers, passed by unnoticed. A single thought consumed her mind: ‘What if there’s nothing I can do?’
By the time they arrived at the palace, the sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows across the stone walls of the royal keep. Ellie had always been in awe of the grandeur of Lorthraine’s palace, with its soaring towers and intricate carvings that seemed to whisper of ancient magic.
But today, it felt cold. Oppressive.
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The guards at the gate exchanged grim looks as they escorted her inside, their armor clinking softly in the silence. The halls of the palace, normally filled with the bustling energy of courtiers and attendants, were eerily quiet. The illness had cast its shadow here, too, and Ellie could feel it in the stillness that clung to the air.
She was led to the royal chambers, where the steward waited, his face drawn with tension. "The King is with his son," he said softly, gesturing for her to follow. "He’s been... unwilling to leave the prince’s side."
Ellie nodded, though her throat felt dry, her words sticking somewhere deep inside. The doors to the chamber loomed ahead of her, heavy and ornate, carved with the sigils of the royal house. As they swung open, the smell of incense drifted toward her, mingling with the faint, metallic scent of sickness.
Inside, the room was dim, the curtains drawn tight against the midday sun. Prince Lucius lay on the great four-poster bed, his golden hair splayed across the pillow like a halo. His face was pale, far too pale, and his eyes were closed as if he were merely sleeping.
However, Ellie knew the signs too well now—this was no ordinary sleep. His breathing was shallow, barely perceptible, his chest rising and falling with the same slow rhythm as the other victims.
The King stood by the bedside, his tall frame hunched over his son. He was a man who had weathered wars, famines, and political storms, his presence always commanding and strong. But now, as Ellie approached, she saw something she had never seen in him before: fear. It clung to him like a second skin, seeping into the lines of his face and the set of his jaw.
“Your Majesty,” Ellie said softly, bowing her head.
King Mathias barely glanced at her. His eyes remained fixed on Lucius, as though willing him to wake with sheer force of will. “They told me you would come,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “They told me you might be able to help.”
Ellie swallowed, her mouth dry. “I’ll do everything I can,” she said, though the words felt hollow in her throat. She stepped closer to the bed, her fingers trembling as she reached out toward the prince.
It was the same. The same emptiness she had felt in the others. His magic—his very essence—seemed to have drained away, leaving only a shell of the boy he had been. Lucius, the crown prince, the warrior who had led his father’s armies into battle, reduced to this frail, hollow thing.
And I don’t know why.
“What’s happening to him?” The King’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and desperate.
Ellie took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “We... we don’t know yet, Your Majesty. The illness—it drains the magical energy from its victims, leaving them in a deep, unresponsive state. We’ve tried everything—healing spells, potions, ancient remedies—but nothing seems to work.”
The King turned to face her then, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and despair. “Nothing? You come to me with nothing?”
Ellie flinched at the harshness of his tone, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, we’re doing everything we can, but—”
“But it’s not enough,” the King interrupted, his voice raw with emotion. He turned back to Lucius, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch his son’s forehead. “He was fine. Just a week ago, he was leading the knights in drills, preparing for the autumn campaign. And now...”
His voice broke, and Ellie looked away, the weight of his words pressing down on her like a stone. She had seen that look before—on the faces of parents, friends, lovers—each one helpless as someone they loved was stolen away by an enemy they couldn’t fight.
But this—this was different. This wasn’t just about Lucius. This was the future of the kingdom. Without an heir, without a cure, the entire realm would be plunged into chaos.