Inside the burning ruins of the abandoned castle, two men lay amidst the embers and blood.
Alex's body trembled from blood loss. His breaths were shallow. His vision blurred.
Across from him, James Luxembourg, beaten and broken, lay unconscious.
The flames hissed.
And then— footsteps.
Alex tried to lift his head, struggling to stay awake.
A cloaked figure emerged from the smoke. Without a word, the figure lifted James, hoisting him over their shoulder.
Alex's lips parted, his voice a rasp.
"S…stop…"
But he couldn't move. He could barely see. Only one thing burned itself into his mind—
The stranger's eyes — piercing, cold, and unnaturally calm.
And then darkness took him.
Smoke curled above the treetops.
Elisha rode fast, wind whipping against her cloak. The sight of smoke in the direction Alex had gone clawed at her heart. Behind her, a squadron of elite royal soldiers raced to keep up.
They reached the half-burnt castle, the air thick with soot and death. At the gates, bodies lay strewn like broken dolls.
"Fan out!" Elisha shouted. "Find him—NOW!"
The soldiers obeyed, spreading through the ruins.
A cry came moments later—
"Over here!"
Elisha ran.
She saw him.
Alex.
Collapsed.
Bleeding.
Barely breathing.
"No…"
Elisha dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she touched his cold face.
"Alex. Alex, look at me… I'm here—don't you dare die."
The commander applied a temporary binding, tying a cloth over the deepest wounds. Elisha's voice cracked as she barked orders.
"Lift him! We're going back to the palace! MOVE!"
The palace gates opened with a thunderous clamor.
"CLEAR THE WAY!" Elisha roared. "Bring the physicians NOW!"
People turned, stunned.
The nobles watched in silence as the Northern Duke's limp body was carried inside, covered in blood and ash.
Inside, maids scrambled, running with buckets of hot water and fresh bandages. The hall was in chaos.
Maria, having heard the news, came running.
"Where is he?! Let me through!"
But no one could enter the chamber. The doors were sealed. The physicians were inside, racing against time.
Maria fell to her knees outside the door, tears running down her cheeks.
"Please… please don't take him from me…"
The Emperor arrived, eyes wide with worry.
"What's his condition?"
Elisha, her face pale and streaked with ash, replied through clenched teeth.
"He's fighting for his life."
A physician exited the chamber, blood on his hands.
"Your Majesty, we've done all we can. We've managed to slow the bleeding… but his veins are torn. We need a surgeon to stitch them before it's too late."
"Then call the surgeon!" the Emperor barked.
The physician hesitated. "There's only one… but he's a commoner—"
"So WHAT?! Call him!"
Still, the physician faltered.
That's when Elisha unsheathed her sword, steel glinting under the torchlight.
"Call him. Now."
Fear pushed the man into motion. He bowed and ran.
Minutes passed like hours. Then—
The surgeon arrived. A young man, his hands already stained from saving lives in the slums. He bowed low.
"I'll do my best."
"No," the Emperor said. "You'll save him. Name your reward."
"I only want him to live," the surgeon replied, stepping inside.
Silence gripped the palace.
Time stood still.
The Line Between Life and Death
Hours later, the surgeon emerged, exhausted.
"The surgery… was successful."
Gasps of relief.
"He's still weak. He's lost a great deal of blood. We stopped the bleeding… but he won't wake for a while."
The Emperor put a hand to his chest.
"Thank you… thank you."
He ordered the surgeon to be given a place of honor—and rest.
Inside the room, Alex lay pale and unmoving, his body wrapped in fresh linen. His chest rose and fell… just barely.
Maria entered.
One look at him—bandaged, wounded—and she collapsed beside the bed, her hand clasping his.
"Alex…"
Elisha stood by the window, her eyes red, her hands shaking.
Together, they waited. Watching the man who carried their world on his shoulders, praying for the moment when he would open his eyes.
The sun rose over the capital like a trembling breath after a long night.
The streets buzzed with rumors. The nobles whispered behind closed doors. The commoners clustered in markets and alleys, passing hushed conversations with wide eyes:
"Did you hear? The Empress was kidnapped—"
"They say Lady Maria too—"
"What happened to the Duke?"
"Did he… survive?"
No one knew the truth.
Not until the palace bell rang — three heavy tolls — and a royal decree followed:
An open public meeting would be held at noon.
The Emperor himself would address the kingdom.
The royal plaza filled like a tide — nobles, merchants, farmers, children. All turned toward the towering steps of the palace.
Then, the gates opened.
And the Emperor emerged.
Flanked by guards, his face solemn, and his voice heavy with the weight of recent days.
"Two days ago," he began, "the Empress… and Lady Maria Morgan… were kidnapped."
Gasps. Murmurs. Faces turned pale.
"The ones who took them wanted me. They left a letter, calling me out. But before I could act, the Duke—"
"—Alex Luxembourg—"
"—stood up and said, 'Let me go. I will bring them back."
The crowd fell into stunned silence.
The Emperor's voice wavered, emotions barely held in check.
"He did not wait. He took no escort. He rode into danger… alone.
He fought for his Empress. For my wife. For Lady Maria. For all of us."
"Bleeding… collapsing… he still fought. Even as his body failed him, his will did not."
The Emperor lowered his head. Then—he bowed.
A royal bow, offered to a subject.
"To him… to Lady Elisha… to Lord Oliver Ferdinand… to Prince Raymond Calix… I offer my deepest thanks.
For they stood when all hope nearly fell."
Tears shimmered in the eyes of many. Then—
"They returned victorious."
Just then, the doors opened again—
And the Empress walked into the sunlight.
Cheers broke the tension like thunder.
"Your Majesty!! Are you hurt?"
"Is the child safe?"
"What of the Duke?!"
The Empress raised a hand. Her voice, though soft, carried with quiet power.
"I am alive… because of them.
They bled for me. They suffered for me. They are the reason I stand here now.
They are the true warriors of this realm."
Then the crowd began to chant:
"Bring the Duke!"
"Show us the Northern Wolf!"
"Let us see our hero!"
The Emperor stepped forward again.
His tone shifted — quieter, trembling.
"The Duke is brave beyond words.
He returned… but barely.
When he reached the palace, he had already lost most of his blood.
He was on the verge of death…"
"But fate was kind. A miracle came — a young surgeon, a commoner — saved him."
The Emperor turned toward the sky, his voice rising like a prayer.
"Oh, Gods, protect your child.
He has given all for us.
Let him stay. Let him wake."
And in the plaza below, the crowd wept and prayed as one.
Two days passed.
Alex remained unconscious.
Elisha managed the Duke's duties.
Oliver and Raymond visited often.
Maria never left his side.
She slept in a chair. Ate in silence.
Her fingers laced with his, eyes on his face, whispering:
"Come back to me…"
Marquise Morgan tried to take her away, pleading:
"You need rest, child. If not for yourself… for him."
Only the Empress's gentle voice swayed her.
"Maria, if he wakes and sees you like this… what do you think it will do to him?"
Maria's heart broke—but she nodded. She let herself be taken to her room. Bathed. Changed. Ate slowly, mechanically.
Then—
A maid burst into the room.
"The Duke… the Duke is awake!"
Elisha and Maria ran.
The corridors blurred.
Inside the room—
Doctors. The Emperor. The Empress. Oliver. Raymond.
All were present.
Alex lay on the bed, pale but breathing, eyes open — distant and blinking slowly, as if returning from a great depth.
Maria halted at the door. Her hand rose to her lips. She couldn't move forward.
Couldn't face him.
Not yet.
She turned to leave quietly—when his voice broke the stillness.
"Maria… I know you're there. Come to me."
Her feet froze.
"If you don't come… then I'll have to drag myself to you."
Tears fell.
She turned.
And she walked to him.
As she neared, Alex weakly lifted his hand toward her. She grasped it. Clutched it. Sank to her knees beside the bed.
"You came back…" she whispered.
"I promised, didn't I?" Alex smiled, though it pained him.
She bent forward and pressed her forehead to his chest, sobbing quietly.
He lifted his trembling hand and ran it through her hair.
No words.
Just heartbeats.
Just breath.
They were together again.
A Slow Return to Life
The North's strongest wolf was still on the mend.
Each day, Alex Luxembourg slowly began to recover — his body scarred, yes, but his will unshaken. And by his side, without fail, was Maria.
She sat beside his bed, reading reports aloud, feeding him when the pain became too much to lift his arms, and brushing his hair with the gentlest of fingers when sleep refused to come.
The Duke's chambers had become a quiet sanctuary… and yet, the whispers beyond the door told their own tale.
Outside, the maids gathered in the corners of corridors, their voices hushed but eager.
"Even though they're divorced… she never leaves his side."
"He doesn't let anyone else touch his bandages but her…"
One younger maid peeked through the slightly open door, watching Maria softly stroke Alex's hair as he drifted off to sleep again.
"If they love each other this much," she whispered, "why did they ever divorce…?"
An older maid didn't answer. She just gave a small, wistful smile and looked toward the sky.
"I don't know," she said softly, "but I hope they find their way back to each other."
The next day, Oliver and Raymond arrived together.
"Still alive, I see," Oliver teased, arms folded but eyes warm.
Alex chuckled from his bed. "Barely."
Raymond gave a formal nod, then stepped closer. "We came to check if you still remembered how to breathe."
Alex smirked. "I remember enough to thank both of you for protecting them. Without you—"
Oliver raised a hand. "You would've done the same. You have."
Just then, the doors opened with a regal creak — and in walked Elisha, flanked by the Emperor, Empress, and Maria, who looked radiant under the soft morning light.
Everyone bowed as custom dictated. The Emperor stepped forward.
"How is the Northern Wolf today?"
Alex gave a half-smile. "Healing, thanks to your physician… and your Empress's tea."
The Empress chuckled. "Well, you're not allowed to die until my child's born and old enough to ride a horse."
Everyone laughed — the warmth in the room palpable.
But then… Elisha's sharp voice rang out:
"Your Highness Prince Raymond…" she said, arms crossed and eyes narrow, "now that the Duke is safe and well — care to explain what you were doing in the middle of an enemy-infested forest?!"
The entire room paused.
Raymond blinked. His ears turned red. He opened his mouth to speak but only stammered.
"I… well, I heard… I-I mean, I thought I could help and—"
Elisha leaned in, just a little too close.
"You thought you could help? You could have gotten yourself killed! You didn't even have a proper sword!"
Raymond took a nervous step back.
Alex, watching all of this, turned to Maria with a smirk.
He then turned back to Elisha and — with the most knowing grin — gave her a huge, exaggerated thumbs up.
Elisha froze mid-sentence, frowning. "What are you—?"
Then she followed Alex's gaze… right to Raymond, who was staring at her with the admiration of a man utterly dazed.
Their eyes locked.
Elisha's eyes widened.
Her cheeks turned crimson.
Raymond's ears were practically glowing red.
Elisha spun on her heel and ran — ran — straight behind Maria, grabbing the back of her gown like a child hiding from embarrassment.
"He was staring at me, Maria!" she whispered.
"You were yelling at him," Maria deadpanned.
Oliver leaned toward Alex, whispering, "Should we prepare for another royal wedding?"
Alex, chuckling through the pain, whispered back, "God's help us. She'll kill him before the proposal."
And so… for the first time in months, the palace laughed.
The Empress glowed with health and joy. The Emperor held her hand whenever he could.
Maria still remained close to Alex's bedside, and though neither said the words — not yet — everyone could feel it in the way he looked at her… and how she never once left his side.
But in the Shadows…
Far from the palace, behind walls darker than night, the figure who had carried James Luxembourg away watched from a high cliff, a scroll in hand and a venomous smirk upon her face.
"Let them laugh. Let them love. Let them pretend they are safe."
"We still have one piece left to play."
She turned to a cloaked man beside her.
"Release it."
He bowed.
A black falcon soared into the skies — heading for the capital.