The air still smelled of ashes.
Even after the flames had died, the ruin of the corridor hummed with the ghost of magic — faint, restless, unwilling to fade.
Zelene's hands trembled as she pressed them against Kael's chest, feeling for the shallow rise and fall of his breath. He was alive — but only barely. His skin was cold to the touch, pale where the curse had receded, veins etched faintly in crimson beneath.
Ray knelt beside her, his brow slick with sweat. "He will not last long if we do not move him."
"I am aware." Zelene's voice cracked. She looked up, eyes meeting Darius's, who stood rigid near the archway, his sword arm shaking ever so slightly. "We do not have time to wait. We have to bring him to the House of Rosanwald."
Darius blinked, startled. "Rosanwald, Milady?"
"They study ancient bindings — spirits, curses," she said quickly. "If anyone knows how to stop this, it is them."
Ray glanced toward Kael, then back at her, hesitant. "That is half a kingdom away. He cannot survive that journey."
Zelene rose, shaky but firm. "Then we do not use a carriage. Darius— prepare—"
"Milady."
Her command faltered as Darius spoke, his voice quieter than usual. "There is no need for a carriage."
Zelene frowned. "What do you mean?"
He hesitated for only a breath before lowering his sword and stepping closer, shadows gathering faintly around his boots. "My gift… it is not just protection. I can move people — teleport them, as long as I am touching them. It is how I brought His Grace to safety earlier."
Zelene blinked. "You— you can teleport?"
He nodded once. "It drains me, but… if you tell me where the House of Rosanwald lies, I can take you there."
For the first time that night, Zelene almost laughed — the sound brittle but alive. "That's… convenient," she murmured under her breath.
Ray managed a small, tired smile. "Convenient's exactly what we need right now."
They exchanged a look — a quiet, wordless agreement.
Zelene crouched again, slipping an arm beneath Kael's shoulders, trying to lift him. The effort drew a sharp gasp from her lips — he was heavier than she thought, and his body limp as cloth.
"Let me," Ray said, stepping in before she could protest. He slid his arms beneath Kael and lifted him effortlessly, though his jaw tightened with effort.
Zelene straightened, brushing the dirt from her dress, eyes softening. "Thank you."
Ray didn't answer. He just nodded, eyes on Kael's face — the faint twitch of his lashes, the low groan caught between breaths.
Darius stepped forward, his palm outstretched. "Everyone, hold on. I'll need to see the place in my mind."
Zelene closed her eyes, picturing it — the memory of that single night at the ball: the Rosanwald crest etched in silver on the invitation, the white-stoned manor veiled in mist and roses, and the quiet voice of Cassian Rosanwald himself saying, If the Dravenhart seeks counsel beyond the court's noise, our gates are open.
When she opened her eyes, her voice was steady. "To the Rosanwald Estate — near the old northern woods, just beyond the Arwen River."
Darius nodded, exhaling once. "Then hold on to me. It'll feel… disorienting."
Ray shifted Kael in his arms, and Zelene reached out, her hand gripping Darius's gauntlet. The air around them thickened, humming with unseen pressure.
The broken hall shuddered — the ruined floor rippling with dark light.
And then the world folded.
The sound was gone. The air vanished. The ground slipped away.
Zelene's breath caught in her throat as everything twisted, the sensation of being pulled through a tunnel made of thunder and silence.
She wanted to cry out, but before she could, the pressure broke.
Cold wind hit her face.
The scent of pine, rain, and earth flooded her lungs.
They stood in a vast courtyard, silver-lit under a clouded moon — stone walls draped in ivy, rose petals scattered by the wind.
The House of Rosanwald.
Its gates loomed before them, ancient and still, and from beyond them — a flicker of pale light, as if someone had been waiting.
Ray staggered slightly under Kael's weight, kneeling to lay him gently on the ground. Darius dropped to one knee as well, breath ragged, the teleport clearly draining him.
Zelene knelt beside Kael, brushing damp hair from his forehead. His skin was clammy, his pulse faint but there. "We made it," she whispered. "You're safe. You're safe now."
But when she looked up, her heart stopped.
The front doors of the estate were already open.
And standing in the threshold, framed by candlelight and mist, was Cassian Rosanwald himself — tall, calm, eyes the color of tempered gold.
He studied them quietly, his gaze lingering on Kael's unconscious form, then lifting to Zelene.
"Lady Zelene Evandelle and the Duke of the Dravenhart," he said softly, voice steady but knowing. "It seems the curse has come knocking after all."