The mahogany door shattered into pieces. Its hinges wrenched free under the weight of Captain Vane's shoulder and the surge of the silver-armored squad. Fresh air from the corridor rushed in, but the sight inside the chamber stole everyone's breath.
On the royal bed, Alistair Thorne was not standing in a respectful bow. He was positioned over Princess Elara's body, his hands pressing against her chest with a rhythmic, forceful intensity. Alistair's face was drenched in sweat, his eyes wild, and most shockingly—his lips had just pulled away from Elara's after delivering a breath.
"Y-YOU... ANIMAL!" Captain Vane roared. His face turned a deep crimson, the veins in his forehead looking as if they might burst. "Get your filthy hands off the Princess!"
Sring! Sring! Sring!
A dozen swords were unsheathed in unison. Sir Kaelen led the charge, his eyes flashing with a cold, murderous fury. "Julian Vance, I warned you. Defiling the sacred body of the royal family is a capital offense without trial!"
"Back off, you fools!" Alistair shouted without breaking his compressions. One, two, three, four... "Her heart has stopped! She's in cardiac arrest due to toxic shock!"
"Lies!" Maester Valerius emerged from behind the line of guards, pointing toward the floor covered in the black crystals Elara had vomited. "Look at that! He used black magic to torture the Princess! He is stealing her final breath!"
King Theodoric stepped inside, his body trembling as he looked at his seemingly lifeless daughter. "Julian... what are you doing?"
"Saving her!" Alistair leaned down again, pinched Elara's nose, and delivered a second rescue breath. The sight made the guards cry out in hysterics.
"STOP HIM! TAKE HIS HEAD!" Vane commanded.
Kaelen lunged forward, his sword swinging horizontally, aiming for Alistair's neck. Alistair felt the sharp whistle of wind behind his head, but he did not dodge. He only ducked slightly to deliver a third rescue breath, letting the tip of Kaelen's blade shear through strands of his hair and bite into the sturdy wooden bedpost.
CRACK!
"Kaelen, wait!" King Theodoric shouted, his voice hoarse.
"Wait for what, Your Majesty?!" Kaelen turned, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "He is desecrating the Princess's corpse right before our eyes!"
"Look at her chest," Alistair interrupted, his voice rasping but steady. He paused the compressions for a moment, his fingers searching for the carotid pulse in Elara's neck. "Her blood is starting to flow again. The parasite is loosening its grip because the heart is being forced to work."
"You're just buying time to kiss her again, you lecherous convict!" Valerius provoked. "Your Majesty, if you allow this, history will record that the Princess of Aethelgard was defiled by a murderer on her deathbed!"
Alistair looked at Valerius with a gaze that could freeze fire. "Maester, if you care more about a hymen than a heartbeat, then you are no physician. You are a moral butcher."
"How dare you—"
"SILENCE!" Alistair resumed compressions. Pump. Pump. Pump. "Elara! Wake up! Don't let this parasite win! You have a kingdom to lead!"
"Enough!" Captain Vane lost his patience. He lunged forward, grabbing Alistair's collar and slamming him onto the hard marble floor.
THUD!
Alistair groaned as his back, covered in whip lashes, hit the floor. His stitches tore open, and blood began to soak through his tunic. Vane pinned his chest down, pressing a dagger against Alistair's Adam's apple.
"Say your final prayer, Devil Doctor," Vane hissed.
"If you... kill me now..." Alistair choked on his own blood, but his eyes remained fixed sharply on the bed. "No one can... warm her body. She will... petrify in five minutes."
"Let her die with honor rather than live in disgrace from your touch!" Valerius screamed crazily.
King Theodoric stood frozen, tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked at his pale daughter, then at Alistair dying under Vane's dagger. The world seemed to stop spinning.
However, amidst the chaos of hatred, a sound emerged.
Cough! Cough-cough!
The sound was small, raspy, and full of suffering. Yet to everyone in the room, it was louder than a thunderclap.
Vane froze. Kaelen lowered his sword. King Theodoric fell to his knees.
On the bed, Elara's body jolted. Her chest heaved violently, sucking in as much air as possible as if she had just surfaced from drowning. Her eyes flew open, her pupils shrinking as the lamplight hit her retinas.
"Cough... hakh..."
Elara tried to sit up, her trembling hands groping at the air beside her. She looked confused, terrified, and incredibly vulnerable.
"Elara? My daughter?" King Theodoric crawled closer.
But Elara did not turn toward her father. Her sky-blue eyes swept the room, searching for something—or someone. When her eyes found Alistair pinned by Vane on the floor, Elara let out a heart-wrenching whimper.
"Ju... lian..."
Alistair, with the last of his strength, wrenched his arm from Vane's grip. He stood up, ignoring the pain shattering his body, and stepped toward the bed. The guards automatically parted for him, as if Alistair's aura had transformed into something untouchable.
Alistair sat on the edge of the bed. He made no intimate movements this time. He simply reached out his left hand, which was free of blood.
"I am here," Alistair whispered.
Elara quickly seized Alistair's hand. Her grip was so tight her knuckles turned white, as if Alistair were the only anchor keeping her from being dragged back into the darkness. She took a deep breath—a clean breath, without the crackle of black crystals in her lungs.
"Warm..." Elara murmured. Tears spilled from her eyes, wetting her hand as she held onto his. "Your hand... it feels so warm."
Alistair looked at King Theodoric, who was still kneeling, then turned to Valerius, whose face was now as white as paper.
"Her heartbeat is stable. The black veins are fading," Alistair announced in a cold, unwavering voice. "The first phase of the rescue is successful. But let no one dare celebrate yet."
Alistair pointed toward the pile of black crystals on the floor.
"The monster is still inside her, and it is hungry. If it isn't fed properly within the next hour, it will consume the Princess's heart to replace the lost heat."
King Theodoric stood up, wiping his tears. He looked at Alistair with newfound respect. "Tell me what you need, Julian. Anything."
Alistair glanced at Maester Valerius, who was trying to hide his trembling hands beneath his robes.
"I need the palace kitchen cleared. I will be the one to decide the dinner menu. And Maester Valerius..."
Alistair gave a lethal, lopsided smile.
"You had best stay away from this food, unless you want me to dissect your stomach to find out why you were so adamant about letting the Princess die."
Elara pulled Alistair's hand closer, leaning her still-cold forehead against his arm in front of everyone, including Baron Cedric, who had just arrived at the threshold. As the atmosphere calmed slightly, Alistair suddenly tensed. His sharp sense of smell caught something foreign. From behind the hearth, an old servant seemed to be hurriedly hiding a small vial, while Elara began to complain that her throat felt as if it were burning intensely.