It had been nearly a full day since Soren disappeared, and the first pale light of morning was finally bleeding through the icy horizon. The knights who had spent the night scouring the wilderness for him were worn thin with faces numbed by the biting cold, breaths coming out in shaky puffs.
They were trained swordsmen, hardened by countless drills and battles, but even their discipline couldn't shield them from the cruelty of nature. The blizzard may have died down, yet the lingering frost still gnawed at their bones and stiffened their limbs.
Meanwhile, Lyric and Sylas were handling an entirely different responsibility. The twins had been entrusted with preparing the Marquis' son for a safe return to the capital—a tedious but important task. Though they weren't required to personally escort him, Alaric had ordered them to oversee every detail to avoid any missteps that could spark political trouble later on.
So, the twins worked through the night, checking lists, organizing formations, and assigning only the best guards to the noble youth. The elite knights led by Captain Theron himself had been chosen to conduct the escort, each one vetted by the twins to ensure there would be no accidents, no delays, and no excuses.
Lyric and Sylas had no time to rest while the search unit battled the cold outside, they faced a different kind of pressure, one that came from the weight of noble expectations and the silent consequences of failure.
Meanwhile, back at the base of the cliff, the search party finally stumbled into trouble. After hours of pushing through freezing winds, the knights halted as low, guttural growls echoed through the ravine. From the swirling frost ahead, a pack of Frostfang Wargs emerged. A sleek, wolf-like shadows with ice-crusted fur, blue mist curling from their fangs like smoke from a frozen hell.
Their eyes glowed faintly, one by one, as they crept forward.
Gaspar's expression hardened. "Ready for battle!" he shouted, voice cutting through the cold like steel.
Every knight jerked into formation. Cael exhaled once, steady and calm, then drew his sword with a slow, controlled motion, the blade catching a sliver of morning light.
Gaspar barked again, sharper this time: "Protect His Highness!"
"Your Highness, please stay back. Let us deal with these beasts!" one of the knights called out as they closed ranks around Cael but the Wargs didn't give them the luxury of time as they attacked first.
A Frostfang Warg lunged from the left, its jaws glowing with biting frost.
"Hyah! Die, you bastard beasts!" a knight roared, swinging his sword and managing to cut into the creature's hide but frost burst from the wound, numbing his arm instantly.
Another knight staggered as a second Warg slammed into his shield with bone-cracking force.
"Here! I need backup!" he shouted, bracing himself while trying to keep his footing on the icy ground.
Three more Wargs burst from the snow behind him, snapping and circling with their freezing mist spreading across the battlefield like creeping fog then a female knight—the same one whose friend Soren had healed charged forward with pure fury etched in her face.
"Ugh! Bastard beasts, die!" she yelled as she drove her blade into a Warg's flank. The creature shrieked, a chilling, glass-like sound before sinking its claws into her arm, frost burning through her armor.
Gaspar dashed in, knocking the Warg aside with brutal force. "Stay alert! These beasts strike in pairs so don't let them flank you!"
The pack shifted, howling, circling the knights with coordinated steps. Frost spread beneath their paws, turning the ground into a battlefield of treacherous white ice. Each breath the Wargs exhaled thickened the mist, blinding patches of the field and forcing the knights to fight half-blind.
Another Warg bounded straight toward Cael.
Gaspar spun. "Your Highness—!"
But Cael stepped forward first, eyes ice-sharp, raising his sword as the beast leaped.
The battle raged around them with their metal clashing, frost flying, and the knights shouting to cover one another as the Frostfang Wargs attacked from all sides. The creatures were fast and ruthless, but the knights held their formation, pushing forward despite the cold biting at their limbs.
Little by little, the tide turned. The knights' training and experience showed in every strike, and soon the Wargs began to fall one after another. The last beast collapsed with a broken howl, and silence slowly returned to the base of the cliff.
Everyone was exhausted. Some knights were bleeding, others clutching bruises or frostbitten cuts, but they were all alive. And Cael stood unharmed without even a scratch on him.
Gaspar glanced at him with relief before giving orders to regroup.
"Clear the area. We continue the search," Cael said calmly.
With the beasts defeated, the knights pressed on, determined to find Soren.
After a short while of searching deeper into the snow-covered area, the knights came across a patch of snow stained with dried blood. The shape of it looked disturbingly human like someone had collapsed there and remained for some time.
"Your Highness… he may be around here." Gaspar said, hope flickering in his voice. Seeing the outline in the snow, he felt certain it could only be Soren.
Cael crouched for a moment, studying the scene, then cleaned his sword and slid it back into the scabbard at his hip. "Let's move. If we stop now, we'll all freeze to death out here." He stood and began to turn but before he could take a single step, a shout cut through the cold air:
"I found him! He's here!"
All the knights snapped to attention, hearts pounding, as they rushed toward the voice.
When Cael reached the mouth of the cave, several knights were already standing in a circle around a figure. As soon as they noticed him, they stepped aside, giving way so he could see clearly. One glance was enough for him to know who it was on the ground. The color of the robe and the slight build that there was no doubt.
It was Soren.
"Hmm… so he's still alive?" Cael murmured with a faint smirk as he approached. The woman knight had already turned Soren onto his back and was letting his limp body lean against her chest for support.
"Your Highness, yes he's alive." she answered quickly. "But it seems he's been unconscious for a long time due to blood loss. Even so, he's warm, so I'm certain he's still holding on."
Cael crouched in front of Soren, eyes drifting over his injuries with unsettling calm. Then, without warning, he glanced at the woman knight.
"Tell me… if it were you who fell instead, do you think you'd still be alive?"
Her face instantly drained of color as she saw Cael's sharp eyes, cold enough to feel like they pierced straight through her thoughts.
She swallowed hard.
"I-I doubt I would, Your Highness. The cliff is too deep and beasts often roam this area. We were fortunate we only encountered Frostfang Wargs… since we wipe them out often so they're fewer."
Cael's gaze returned to Soren. His robe was torn in several places, his boots nearly slipping off, and dried blood clung heavily to the fabric. Even in his unconscious state, there were faint traces of healing attempts, the kind only Soren could manage.
"Give me a cloth. We're heading back to camp."
A knight quickly handed him one, and Cael wrapped it around Soren's body with surprising care.
Gaspar stepped forward. "Your Highness, you must be tired. Allow me to carry him—"
But Cael looked up, face completely blank, eyes flicking from Gaspar to Soren's bloodied face and then back again. The air tightened that even the other knights felt the shift.
After a brief pause, Cael finally spoke.
"No need. I can handle him." He then smiled a calm, almost gentle, making it seem as if he hadn't just terrified his own knights moments earlier.
'What an interesting fellow,' Cael thought as he looked down at Soren's unconscious face. He must have broken a few limbs with the fall… and with how much blood we found earlier, he should've been dead. Yet here he is, still breathing so calmly as if sleeping without a care in the world. And even in this cold… you're still warm. How lucky.'
His lips curled into a quiet smirk.
'Hmm, Soren, was it? You intrigue me…'
With that thought, Cael slipped his arms under Soren's body and lifted him effortlessly—carrying him out of the cave in a princess carry, the cold wind biting around them while he held Soren close and steady.
Back in the camp, Alaric was seated at his desk, quietly working through a stack of documents when a knight hurried into the tent.
"Your Grace, His Highness Cael and the rescue team are returning. They also found the healer's body…" Alaric paused mid-stroke, lifting his gaze toward the knight.
"Hmm. Is he dead?"
"No, Your Grace. He was unconscious but still alive." Alaric leaned back slightly, expression unreadable. "I see. You may leave."
The knight bowed and stepped out. The moment the flap closed, Alaric clicked his tongue softly.
'Still alive. Tsk. Whatever.And why did His Highness even bother going out of his way for that damn commoner?Did that useless thing somehow catch his attention?'
He shook his head, irritated at the thought, then bent over his documents again, pretending the matter didn't bother him more than it should.