The palace courtyard shimmered under the dying light of early evening, its white stones reflecting the pale gold of the sinking sun. Ministers rushed back and forth in their embroidered robes, guards marched in tightly aligned formations, and the banners of Zephyros fluttered in the mountain wind. But Rowan Ravenshade saw none of that.
His heartbeat drowned the world.
His boots slammed against the ground as he ran through the royal gate, pushing past startled guards, ignoring the formalities, ignoring the shouted protests.
"Sir! You cannot go in—!"
Rowan didn't even slow down.
"Where is my son?"
His voice cracked like thunder on stone.
The guard hesitated, trembling.
"He—he is inside the interrogation wing, sir—b-but you must wait—"
Rowan grabbed the guard by the collar and pulled him close, his voice low, dark, dangerous.
"If my son has even one scratch, you will all answer to me."
The guard swallowed hard and stepped aside. Rowan stormed through the narrow hall, the cold air suffocating him as he pushed deeper into the palace's underground chambers. Torches flickered along the walls, casting long, stretched shadows that felt almost alive.
Then he heard it—
a faint sound, something between a groan and a breath.
Rowan froze.
It came from behind a heavy iron door, slightly ajar.
He stepped forward, palms trembling.
His heart felt like it would tear out of his chest.
He pushed the door open—
And the world collapsed.
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Kael lay on the cold floor, slumped on his side, barely conscious, his breathing uneven and shallow. His eyes were half-open but unfocused, staring at nothing, pupils trembling as if trapped between waking and nightmares.
Rowan felt something inside him crack.
His son looked small.
Too small.
Only thirteen.
Still a child.
"Kael…" Rowan whispered, but his voice broke halfway.
At the sound of his father's voice, Kael's gaze shifted slightly, slow and weak, as if it took all his remaining strength just to move his eyes.
"...Dad…?"
That single word stabbed Rowan straight through the heart.
He rushed forward, falling to his knees beside Kael. His hands hovered above the boy trembling violently. He wanted to touch him, but the fear that even his gentle touch might hurt Kael froze him.
"Son… I'm here. I'm right here."
Kael blinked slowly. His lips trembled, but he forced out a whisper.
"They… didn't believe me…"
His voice cracked into a painful rasp, a mix of fear and shame no child should ever carry.
Rowan clenched his jaw.
He felt heat rise behind his eyes.
But he forced the tears back.
"Don't speak. It's over. I've come to take you home."
He slid an arm behind Kael's back, lifting him carefully. But the moment Kael's body shifted, a sharp gasp escaped him—pure reflex, pure pain.
Rowan froze again, every muscle tightening.
"What did they do to you…"
His voice became hoarse, strained.
Kael tried to answer, but his throat constricted. His breath hitched. His hands twitched weakly, fingers curling as if trying to grasp something invisible.
When Rowan finally gathered him into his arms, Kael let out a small, broken sound—almost a whimper.
Rowan's chest burned.
He hated himself.
Hated that he wasn't there.
Hated that his son had suffered alone.
Hated that all his years as a sentinel, all his discipline, all his strength meant nothing in this moment.
He couldn't protect the person who mattered most.
Kael leaned into his father's chest, exhausted.
"Dad… I didn't… do anything wrong…"
"You didn't," Rowan said immediately. "You didn't do anything wrong. You hear me?"
Kael nodded weakly, tears finally escaping the corners of his eyes.
Rowan's arms tightened, as though he was shielding Kael from the whole world. As though he could somehow reverse the hours of terror burned into the young boy's mind.
He stood.
Kael's weight felt lighter than it should—because the boy wasn't holding himself up anymore. His muscles were too weak, too tired, too traumatized. Rowan could feel the faint trembling across Kael's limbs, the shaking he couldn't hide.
"I've got you," Rowan whispered.
But Kael's eyes were already fluttering.
"Dad…" His voice thinned like a fading flame. "I'm… tired…"
"You can rest," Rowan whispered, stroking Kael's hair gently. "You're safe now."
Kael held onto his father's shirt weakly—but then his grip slowly loosened.
And as Rowan took one step toward the exit—
Kael went limp.
The boy's head fell against Rowan's shoulder. His body sagged completely, like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
Rowan gasped, fear slicing through him.
"Kael—!"
But Kael didn't respond.
His breathing was still there—but faint, shallow, fragile.
He had fainted.
Rowan lowered his head, forehead touching Kael's hair, and for a moment, a single moment, this iron-willed man broke.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, son…"
The torches flickered.
The entire hall felt colder.
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Rowan carried Kael through the palace hall. People stepped back instinctively—not from disrespect, but from fear.
A father carrying a nearly unconscious child, eyes blazing with contained fury, was a sight no one in the palace wanted to remember.
When one of the ministers stepped forward, pretending concern:
"Sir Ravenshade, we hope the boy cooperated—"
Rowan didn't even slow.
"If you speak another word," he said without turning, "you will not speak again."
The minister stepped aside immediately.
Outside the palace gate, the sky was a deepening orange, and the wind carried the faint sound of the city—a distant murmur Kael did not hear.
Rowan placed Kael in the backseat of the car, supporting his head like he was made of spun glass. The boy didn't stir.
He brushed a hand through Kael's hair.
"Rest, Kael. I'll get you home."
His daughter Zara would be waiting.
Finn would be panicking in the Vortemillien house.
The whole city would whisper once the truth spread.
But none of that mattered.
Only Kael.
Only his broken breathing.
Only the nightmare that had sunk its claws into his young, unprepared mind.
Rowan started the engine with trembling hands.
The road ahead blurred with tears he refused to let fall.
For the first time in many years, Rowan Ravenshade—once a sentinel, once a hero—felt powerless.
And it was a feeling he would never forget.