After Percival told Fanaza about the defeat of Lazarus, peace finally flowed through her heart like a calm river. For the first time in many days, she felt she could breathe again. Percival had recovered from his wounds, and life in the palace returned to its usual rhythm.
That evening, Fanaza lay on her soft bed, the golden curtains drawn around her, the faint fragrance of burning oil filling the room. Yet rest refused to find her.
Her mind wandered back to Rwaine, the man who had risked everything but left without a proper goodbye. He had only sent her a message through Percival, one that was brief and cold.
She stood from the bed and walked to the window, her steps slow, as if dragging her heavy thoughts along with her. Adjusting a chair by her desk, she sat down and fiddled nervously with the quill, dipping it into the pot of ink.
Her hand trembled as she tried to write, pausing every few seconds, thinking of what to say.
The lamp burned gently, casting a warm glow over the room. The scratching of the quill was the only sound until a sudden thud startled her. A stone had been thrown into her chamber.
Fanaza's heart leapt, her hand jerking, spilling ink across the page.
Another thud followed, louder this time, and she spun toward the window she couldn't help it, her pulse raced too fast.
She walked over slowly, peering out into the night. Beneath the silver glow of the moon stood Percival. His face shone softly, handsome in the pale light, his blonde hair catching the moon's touch.
For a heartbeat, Fanaza found herself staring too long, admitting to herself how striking he looked but she quickly looked away before her cheeks start to burn.
"Do you want to kill me?!" she yelled down, her voice echoing in the still night.
Percival tilted his head, caught off guard, then chuckled nervously.
"Ohhh… I was just trying to get your attention," he whispered.
"With a stone?" she said, still in shock. "Come on, Percival, you aren't a child. Stop playing with stones!"
He grinned slowly, lifting his brows.
"Come down, and I'll stop."
Fanaza let out a sharp breath and yanked the curtains closed with a snap. She stormed back to her desk, determined to ignore him, her quill scratching furiously against the paper again. But another stone clattered against the wall near her window, making her flinch.
Painfully irritated, she stood, opened the curtain, and glared out.
"What are you, five?" she hissed.
"Come outside, Fanaza, that's all," Percival said, running his fingers through his hair, his smile almost pleading.
With a sharp motion, she slammed the window shut again. Percival blinked, surprised. For a moment, he was truly ignored. But then, hearing soft footsteps approach, he turned and there she was.
Fanaza walked quickly toward him, her gown brushing the grass, her face set in a storm of anger. Percival couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips.
When she reached him, she smacked his chest with her palm.
Percival groaned. "Ughh"
"Are you a child?! Throwing stones into my room?!" she shouted, hitting him again.
He stumbled back slightly, wincing, then grinned despite the pain. But Fanaza froze, realizing he was still recovering from his wounds. Guilt flashed across her eyes. She rushed closer, her hands hovering anxiously.
"Are the bandages still on?" she asked quickly.
Percival caught her hands gently, his warm fingers curling around hers.
"Do you want to see them?" he teased softly, eyes sparkling.
Fanaza snatched her hands back, scoffing. "No! Have some shame, Percival. No one wants to see your body."
He smirked, leaning a little closer.
"Well… since we'll be getting married soon, you'd better get used to seeing it."
Her breath caught. The word marriage froze her blood. Fanaza's body stiffened, her eyes widening as if the ground had shifted beneath her.
She hated the word, it brought fear, chains, and shadows of a future she wasn't ready for. She turned pale, her lips parting in silence.
Percival saw the change. His teasing smile softened. He closed the space between them and, gently, his hand lifted her chin. His face lowered, so close their breaths mingled.
Fanaza's heart hammered violently in her chest. She turned away while trying to hide her trembling hands.
"I wasn't going to kiss you," Percival whispered, brushing his nose lightly against her hair. "I just wanted to smell you."
He breathed her in, and Fanaza shoved him back, her face burning. But even weakened from his injuries, his grip was steady and strong. Their eyes locked. For a long moment, neither looked away. Her chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths, as if the night air itself was too heavy.
Finally, she broke free, pushing him aside. He allowed it this time, stepping back.
"What can I do to win your heart?" he asked quietly.
The words struck her like thunder. Fanaza almost doubted her ears. Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
"I… I need to rest now," she whispered instead, retreating, trying desperately to escape the storm in her chest.
Percival, unwilling to give up, leaned closer again—only for Fanaza to suddenly sneeze into his face.
The shock made him freeze. Fanaza slapped her hands over her mouth, horrified. But then she burst into laughter, shoulders shaking.
"I'm sorry," she giggled as she almost ran out of breathe.
Percival wiped his face, feigning offense. Then, without warning, he pressed a kiss onto her forehead. Fanaza shoved him back, stomping on his foot before sprinting away.
He hissed in pain, but then—smiled. A genuine smile, warm and deep, something he hadn't felt in years. She had made him smile this hard and he knew he was going to remember this moment.
Fanaza didn't stop running until she reached the palace stairway. She sank onto the steps, panting, one hand over her chest. Her laughter faded when she heard it—soft sobbing. A child's sob.
Confused, she rose and followed the sound. At the bottom of the stairs, crouched low in the shadows, was Felix.
"Felix!" Fanaza gasped, hurrying down. She knelt and gathered the boy into her arms. His eyes were swollen from crying and his small body was trembling.
"What's wrong?" she asked gently, stroking his hair.
"There's a monster in my room," Felix whispered, his voice shaking.
Fanaza froze. Under normal circumstances, she might have dismissed it as a child's nightmare. But after everything she had seen—Lazarus, the wendigos, and more—she knew monsters were real.
"Will you show me the monster?" she asked softly.
Felix nodded, clinging tightly to her. She carried him close to her chest and walked with him to his chamber.
The room was dark, colder than it should be. The curtains swayed with the night breeze. Setting Felix down, Fanaza scanned the room for something to defend herself. Her eyes landed on an iron clothes hanger. She tore a coat from it and gripped the hanger tightly like a weapon.
Felix pointed, his small hand trembling.
"It's in the wardrobe."
Fanaza swallowed hard, her pulse racing. Step by step, she approached the wardrobe, raised the iron bar, and flung the doors open. Darkness. Empty shelves. Nothing. She leaned closer, inspecting carefully—but there was no monster.
"There's no one here, Felix," she said softly.
Tears welled again in his eyes. "There was a monster. I saw it."
Her heart clenched. "Do you want to stay in my room tonight?"
Felix nodded quickly.
She carried him again, his little arms wrapping around her neck, and brought him to her chamber. She laid him gently on her bed. Within minutes, exhaustion overtook him and he drifted into sleep.
But Fanaza noticed something strange. His body was drenched in sweat, soaking through the sheets. Concerned, she moved closer to adjust his clothes—only to freeze.
Across his skin were red marks. Angry, blister-like sores spreading across his chest and arms. They looked raw, almost burning, like a plague eating through his flesh.
"Felix…" Fanaza gasped. She quickly pulled off his shirt, her breath catching as she saw his entire body covered in them. Felix groaned, his face twisted in pain.
Panic surged in her system. She wasted no time, scooping him into her arms again. Her legs carried her swiftly through the halls until she reached Percival's chamber. She banged on the door until it opened.
Percival appeared, his hair disheveled, eyes alert. "What's wrong?"
"Felix—I think he's infected!" Fanaza cried.
Percival's gaze dropped to the boy, his expression hardening. He lifted Felix from her arms, his hold was very protective.
"Call the physician," he ordered.
Fanaza turned and ran.
******
Soon, the physician arrived, standing with the Queen at Felix's bedside. Percival remained beside the queen.
"My Queen," the physician said after examining the boy, "I cannot make a full diagnosis. I have never seen this before. It resembles an infection, but it cannot be passed from one person to another."
"I don't care what it is," Queen Lisa snapped, her voice sharp with fear. "Cure my son."
"Yes, my Queen. I will. Please, put your mind at rest," he assured.
Percival stepped out of the room and found Fanaza waiting anxiously in the corridor. He was surprised. "I thought you were asleep."
"How is Felix? Did they find out what it is?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"No," Percival sighed. "The physician only said it's an infection that couldn't be passed from one person to the other. But… he looked uncertain."
Fanaza's brows furrowed. "I hope he'll be okay. It must hurt so much."
"You can come in and take a look at him," Percival said softly.
Fanaza shook her head. "No. The Queen doesn't really favor me."
Percival's jaw tightened. He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Listen. You'll be called to the courtroom as a witness. When they ask, don't tell them Felix slept in your room. They could tie the infection to you."
"What? But I don't have an infection!" Fanaza said sharply.
"I know. But you must be smart. In the royal palace, truth doesn't always matter. You were the first to see him. That's enough for suspicion."
Fanaza fell silent, fear washing over her.
"What should I do then?"
"Say you were with me. We met briefly. On your way back, you found Felix and brought him to me. Then you called Physician Carrot."
"Carrot?" Fanaza blinked.
He nodded solemnly. "Carrot, that's his name."
She believed him, fear in her eyes. Percival gently squeezed her hand.
"Stay calm. Be confident. Even if you're lying, they won't know."
Later, in the courtroom, Fanaza stood before the King and Queen. Percival sat beside his father, his expression unreadable.
"I hope you know why you are being summoned, Lady Fanaza," the King said.
"Yes, my King," she replied, her voice low. She glanced at Percival who gave her only a small nod.
"What happened last night with my son?" the King asked.
"Perci—" she stopped herself, she almost called his name and that was not allowed. "I mean, the Crown Prince and I were together…"
"Doing what?" Queen Lisa cut in, her tone sharp.
Fanaza froze, heat rising in her face. She glanced at Percival for help, but he said nothing, he didn't even look at her.
"We were… stargazing and… and—"Fanaza itched her arms softly as she struggled to utter the right words.
"Don't bother," the King interrupted. "What happened when you saw Felix?"
"The Crown Prince walked me to my chamber," Fanaza explained nervously. "On the way, we saw Felix on the floor, crying. I ran to him, held him close, then Percival discovered the blisters and marks. That's when we called Physician Carrot."
The room fell silent. Then, sudden laughter erupted.
Fanaza's face burned in confusion. The physician glared.
"Did you just call me Physician Carrot?!"
"Yes," Fanaza said, baffled. "Isn't that your name?"
"My Lady, I am Callous, not Carrot!" the man barked, offended.
Gasps spread through the courtroom. Fanaza's eyes widened—then narrowed at Percival. She saw him smirk. He had tricked her.
Despite her embarrassment, the King's voice boomed. "It seems to me this was only a coincidence. Lady Fanaza, thank you for noticing our son and calling for help."
Fanaza forced a smile and bowed. "My pleasure, my King."
That night, back in her chamber, she hissed under her breath. Percival had made a fool of her, but at least his lie had saved her. Still, she was still annoyed.
Her body ached slightly. She rubbed at her arms, frowning as the itching worsened. When she rolled up her sleeve, she froze. Red marks —the same blistering sores she had seen on Felix—spread faintly across her skin.
Her heart pounded. She wanted to scream but forced herself calm. She turned to her desk and saw the half-written letters to Rwaine. With trembling hands, she picked them up, then let them fall. No. Writing wasn't enough. She needed to see him.
That night, she sneaked out of the palace. Her body felt weaker with every step, her skin pale, but she kept going. The physician had said it wasn't contagious—surely, it was fine.
At last, she reached the cave where Rwaine stayed. The moment she saw him, her heart surged with life again.
"What are you doing here?" Rwaine asked in shock.
"I came to see you," Fanaza said softly, her smile warm despite her exhaustion.
"Fanaza, we talked about this. You can't keep running from the palace to see me. It's dangerous," he said, his concern deep.
Before she could answer, her body felt limp and blood spilled from her lips, staining Rwaine's clothes. Her knees betrayed her.
"Fanaza!" he cried, catching her as her body shook violently.
"I think… I think I got an infection," she whispered weakly.
Rwaine's eyes widened in horror. He saw the red marks spreading across her skin. His chest tightened with dread.
"Can I?" he asked softly, seeking permission. She nodded faintly.
He lifted her gown slightly—and froze. Her body was covered in the same blistering plague as Felix. The sores looked like burning coals pressing out of her flesh.
"Fanaza… this isn't an infection," he whispered, his voice breaking.
"It's a plague."