The night had thickened, covering the entire Eldwernay with a dark blanket.
After what felt like a century, the door creaked open, and the worried priest jogging down the hallway rushed inside.
Elijah was... sleeping.
Though red, glaring marks covered his wrist and neck, and even his lips looked swollen and bruised, his breathing was calm.
Alexei had untied the ropes, and now the exhausted young man was curled up under the thin blanket.
His somewhat long dark strands lay messily over the white pillow, some sticking to his forehead along with the sweat clinging to his face and glistening neck.
Nicholas opened his mouth, jaw working as if he had something to say, but ultimately, he stayed silent.
Instead, he turned to the young master and gently patted him on the shoulder.
"Thank you."
After blessing Elijah, Nicholas left the two youngsters alone. He needed to deal with the few things on this island. Things that had forced Elijah into this state.
