Chapter 91: The Remedy
Aveloria stood at the foot of the king’s bed, her hands clenched tightly together as she watched the healers work. Evander remained near the window, his arms crossed, his jaw tense. Serene and Seraphina stood close to each other, holding hands as if separating might make the moment worse. Trovald stayed closest to the bed, his attention fixed on Alaric’s still form. Three healers occupied the chamber, moving quietly, speaking in low voices, careful not to disturb the fragile calm.
Alaric lay unmoving beneath heavy covers, his face pale, his breathing shallow and uneven. Dark stains marked the cloth near his mouth, remnants of the black blood he had coughed out earlier. It had shocked everyone present, leaving the room heavy with fear and confusion.
For two hours, the healers had tried every remedy they knew. They administered herbs, pressed warmed cloths to his chest, and murmured healing chants meant to strengthen a weakened wolf. None of it had changed his condition.
The oldest healer stood beside the bed, two fingers pressed lightly against the king’s neck. His brow furrowed deeper with each passing moment. Slowly, he withdrew his hand and straightened his back, releasing a long breath through his nose. The sound drew everyone’s attention. Aveloria stepped forward instinctively, her heart pounding.
"What is it?" she asked, unable to keep the strain from her voice.
The healer hesitated before answering. "His pulse is present, but it is very weak. Too weak for someone of his strength. I cannot understand it." He shook his head slightly. "We have given him everything within our knowledge. Herbs, salves, internal treatments. None has taken effect."
Seraphina’s grip on Serene’s hand tightened. "Why did he cough up black blood?" Serene asked quietly.
"What does that mean?" Seraphina asked.
The healer looked at the girls with sympathy. "It is not caused by poison or illness as we know them. If it were, we would have seen signs in his blood. This is something else."
Trovald stepped forward. "Could the substances used to bewitch the king have settled deeper in his system?" he asked. "Something hidden that cannot be reached by ordinary means?"
The healer shook his head. "The bewitchment did not involve substances. If it had, I would have drawn it out through his blood or organs. This was spiritual in nature. Whatever was done to him did not attack his body alone. It weakened his soul."
A heavy silence followed. Aveloria swallowed. "Will he be fine?" she asked. "Tell me the truth."
The healer met her gaze steadily. "Yes, he can recover. But not through herbs or medical treatment. His wolf is too weak to heal him from within. His soul must be cleansed, and it must be done soon. I advise consulting the high priestess without delay."
Aveloria nodded slowly, her expression controlled despite the fear clawing at her chest. Trovald gave a short bow and turned toward the door. As he stepped into the corridor, he found Theron, Lucien, and Galen waiting outside, their faces tense with worry. He lifted his hand slightly and gestured for Galen to follow him.
They walked a short distance away from the chamber doors. Galen spoke first. "How bad is it?" he asked.
Trovald did not soften the truth. "It is serious. His soul needs cleansing. The healers can do nothing more."
Galen exhaled slowly. "Before this happened, did you try to get him to visit the temple?" He asked.
"Yes," Trovald replied. "More than once. He refused every time."
Galen was quiet for a moment. "Maybe he is punishing himself," he said.
Trovald nodded. "You are right. Alaric does that when he believes he deserves pain. The last few days have been heavy on him. Learning about Strega’s death broke something inside him. He carries more guilt than he admits."
"Where are we going now?" Galen asked as they continued down the hall.
"The temple," Trovald answered. "I intend to invite the high priestess to the palace."
Galen stopped walking. "That is not the best course," he said.
Trovald turned back to him. "Why?"
"With everything happening," Galen said carefully, "the palace is not the right place for a soul cleansing. There are too many distractions, too many political eyes watching. The ritual requires focus and protection. The temple is built for this purpose. Its wards are stronger. The priestess would have uninterrupted time, and the sacred ground itself would support the process."
Trovald frowned. "Moving him is risky."
"So is leaving him here," Galen replied. "At the temple, we can double the guards to control access. Reduce interference. The priestess will not need to divide her attention between the king and temple demands."
After a moment, Trovald nodded. "Very well. Let us inform Aveloria."
As they turned back, Galen added, "There is something else. Aveloria plans to proceed with Eirene’s execution, along with the wanderers captured at the bonding ceremony."
Trovald’s expression darkened. "This is not the time. The king intended to pass judgment himself."
"I know," Galen said. "But she believes swift action will stabilize the realm."
Trovald stopped at the chamber doors. "You must counsel her," he said firmly. "Make her understand that decisions made in fear can fracture loyalty. Promise me you will speak to her."
"I will," Galen assured him.
Inside the chamber, the healers had already left. "Will Father be okay?" Serene asked, her voice small.
Seraphina swallowed hard. "I am scared," she admitted. "No matter what happens next, everything feels wrong lately."
Aveloria opened her arms and drew both girls into her embrace. "He will be fine," she said, her voice steady despite the strain. "We will make sure of it." She pulled back slightly and looked at them both. "Listen to me. Until this is over, you do not wander alone. You inform me or someone you trust of where you are at all times. Do you understand?"
They nodded.
"Now go to your chambers and have a good rest. Evander? Please go with them."
After they left the room, the quiet felt heavier. Aveloria sat at the edge of the bed and released a long breath she had been holding for hours. She took her father’s hand in both of hers, feeling how cold it was.
"Please come back to me," she whispered. "I cannot do this without you. We all need you right now."
A tear slipped down her cheek and landed on his knuckles. The door opened softly behind her. She quickly wiped her face before turning. Trovald and Galen stepped inside.
"Is the priestess on her way?" Aveloria asked.
Trovald shook his head. "It would be better to move the king to the temple for close monitoring."
Aveloria did not argue. "Make the preparations. Move him as soon as possible."
Trovald bowed and left. Galen stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.
"He is going to be okay," he said quietly.
