The Palace. Night.
The corridors were empty.
Edward walked alone, his footsteps soft on the polished stone. The torches flickered. The portraits of past kings watched him pass—stern faces, painted eyes, centuries of Ironhold rulers staring down at the last of their line.
The physicians had given the King days. Maybe less.
Edward had not left his father's side in weeks. He had read reports, signed documents, issued orders from the bedside. The kingdom continued. The kingdom always continued.
But the King was fading.
Edward stopped outside the chamber door. The guards nodded, stepped aside. He pushed the door open.
The room was warm. The fire crackled. The curtains were drawn. The King lay in the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. His face was pale, his hands were spotted, his chest barely moved.
Edward sat in the chair beside the bed.
"Father."
The King's eyes opened. They were cloudy, distant, but they found Edward's face.
"You're still here."
"I'm still here."
The King was silent for a moment. "The kingdom?"
"Runs. The guild is growing. The creatures are being culled. The strangers are... adjusting."
The King nodded slowly. "And the Vargr?"
Edward's jaw tightened. "Massing near the border. Duke Marcellus has called for reinforcements."
The King closed his eyes. "Marcellus is always calling for reinforcements."
"This time it's different."
The King opened his eyes. "How?"
Edward reached into his coat. Pulled out a letter. Unfolded it.
"Marcellus says the Vargr are acting strangely. They're not raiding. They're not attacking. They're just... gathering."
The King frowned. "Gathering where?"
"Near the old pass. Where the portal opened."
The King was silent for a long moment.
"The portal is closed."
"The portal is closed." Edward folded the letter. "But something is happening. Marcellus wants to send a patrol. He wants permission to cross the border."
"Deny him."
Edward nodded. "I have."
The King's eyes drifted to the fire. "You're learning."
"I'm trying."
---
The King slept.
Edward sat beside him, listening to his breathing, watching his chest rise and fall. The reports were on the table beside him—the guild, the creatures, the strangers, the Vargr. The weight of the kingdom pressed down on him.
The door opened. Gwen entered.
She moved quietly, her sword at her hip, her face calm. She had been with him since the capital, since the King's illness, since everything had become complicated.
"You should rest," she said.
Edward shook his head. "I can't."
"The physicians say he has days."
"The physicians have been saying that for weeks."
Gwen moved to stand beside him. "He's dying, Edward."
Edward looked at his father. The pale face, the closed eyes, the thin hands.
"I know."
---
Gwen pulled up a chair. Sat beside him.
"The strangers," she said. "Ben. Tina. Davin. They've been in the guild for a week."
Edward nodded. "I know."
"The adventurers are still wary. But they're not causing trouble."
"They killed seven of our people."
"They made a mistake." Gwen's voice was quiet. "People make mistakes."
Edward looked at her. "You sound like Grog."
"Grog is practical."
"Grog is desperate." Edward shook his head. "He's still looking for Aldric."
Gwen was silent for a moment. "Do you think Aldric is alive?"
Edward looked at the fire. "I don't know."
"If he is—"
"He's been gone for months." Edward's voice was flat. "The void between worlds is not kind to those who travel it alone."
Gwen reached out. Touched his hand. "You still hope."
Edward looked at her. "I still hope."
---
The King stirred.
His eyes opened. He looked at Edward, at Gwen, at their hands.
"Gwendolyn."
Gwen straightened. "Your Majesty."
The King almost smiled. Almost. "You've grown."
Gwen met his eyes. "I've been fighting."
The King nodded slowly. "So I've heard."
He closed his eyes.
Edward leaned forward. "Father."
The King didn't answer.
Edward sat back. His hands were shaking.
Gwen squeezed his hand. "He's sleeping."
"I know."
---
The night passed.
Edward read reports. Gwen dozed in her chair. The fire burned low. The King slept.
At dawn, a messenger arrived.
Edward met him in the corridor. The man was young, pale, his clothes dusty. He bowed.
"Your Highness. A letter from Duke Marcellus."
Edward took it. Broke the seal. Read.
"The Vargr are moving," he said.
The messenger nodded. "South. Toward the border."
Edward folded the letter. "How many?"
"Thousands. Maybe more."
Edward was silent for a moment. "Tell the Duke to hold. I'll send reinforcements."
The messenger bowed. Left.
Edward stood in the corridor, the letter in his hand.
The King was dying. The Vargr were moving. The creatures were still spreading.
And Aldric was still gone.
He walked back to the chamber.
---
The King was awake.
His eyes were open, clear, sharp. He looked at Edward.
"The Vargr?"
Edward nodded. "Moving south."
The King was silent for a moment. "You'll need to go."
Edward frowned. "Go where?"
"The border. The front. Your people need to see you."
Edward shook his head. "I can't leave you."
"You can." The King's voice was weak but firm. "You're the heir. The kingdom needs you."
"The kingdom needs you."
The King almost smiled. "The kingdom needs someone who's not dying."
Edward was silent.
The King closed his eyes. "Go. I'll be here when you return."
Edward stood. Walked to the door. Paused.
"Father."
The King opened his eyes.
"I'll come back."
The King nodded slowly. "I know."
Edward left.