The desperate, gut-wrenching scream echoed off the stone walls of the West Wing, slicing clean through the quiet air of the palace corridor.
Because of their heightened senses they were able to hear the scream from afar.
Cassian froze mid-step, his cup of tea slipping from his fingers and shattering against the marble floor. Beside him, Lucien's eyes darkened instantly. Before the porcelain had even finished breaking, both men were moving.
Lucien burst out onto the high stone balcony overlooking the training grounds, his dark mana flaring instinctively around his frame. Down in the torchlit courtyard, the scene below made Cassian's breath hitch in his throat.
Aurelian was on his knees in the dirt, clutching Tristan's limp body against his chest, screaming hysterically as dark crimson blood soaked through his hands, his clothes, and the gravel around them.
"Tristan!" Cassian cried out, his voice shaking.
Without waiting for the stairs, Lucien vault over the stone balustrade, landing on the courtyard cobbles with a heavy, thunderous impact that cracked the flags beneath his boots. Cassian scrambled down the stone steps as fast as his legs could carry him, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.
By the time Cassian reached the dirt ring, Lucien was already on his knees beside the boys.
"Get back!" Lucien commanded, his voice a low, terrifying roar as he shoved Aurelian's hands away from the wound.
Aurelian collapsed backward into the gravel, hyperventilating, his arms and face covered in his half-brother's blood. "I didn't mean to... I shoved him—he hit the iron—uncle Lucien, please, he's not breathing! I killed him! I killed him!"
"Silence!"
Lucien snapped, though his own hands trembled as he pressed his palm directly over the gaping wound at the base of Tristan's skull. A dense, light surge of his holy mana erupted from Lucien's hand, desperately trying to knit the torn tissue and staunch the heavy arterial flow.
But it was inefficient, half of his mana pool had been corrupted by Jerga's dark mana, thinning the capacity of his holy mana.
Tristan's head lolled uselessly to the side, his lips pale, his eyes fixed on the empty sky.
Cassian dropped to his knees on the other side of Tristan, his hands reaching out to hold the boy's cold face.
"Tristan... Tristan, look at me! Stay with us, sweetheart, stay with me!" Cassian's eyes filled with hot, frantic tears as he checked the pulse in the boy's neck. It was dangerously faint, fluttering like a dying bird's wing.
"His pulse is dropping!"
Cassian yelled, looking up at Lucien in pure panic.
"Lucien, the blood loss—he's slipping!"
Lucien pulled Tristan's body flush against his chest, scooping him into his arms in one swift, desperate motion. The front of Lucien's formal velvet tunic was instantly ruined, painted in his son's blood.
"ROYAL HEALERS!"
Lucien bellowed into the night sky, his voice carrying the terrifying weight of a commanding general. The raw force of his shout rattled the glass in the surrounding palace windows.
"SEAL THE WEST WING! AND BRING THE HIGH PRIEST NOW!"
Lucien sprinted toward the palace doors, carrying Tristan like a man racing death itself.
Cassian started to push himself up to follow, but stopped when he saw Aurelian still kneeling in the blood-stained dirt, staring blankly at his own crimson-covered hands. The young man was shaking uncontrollably, trapped in a state of absolute, horrific shock.
Cassian turned back, grabbing Aurelian by the shoulders and pulling him forcefully to his feet.
"Aurelian! Look at me!"
Cassian ordered, his voice raw with emotion.
"We have to move! Now!"
Aurelian looked at Cassian, his eyes wide, hollow, and completely broken. "Father... what did I do?"
"We will talk later!" Cassian pulled Aurelian by the wrist, forcing the trembling nineteen-year-old to run alongside him toward the palace infirmary.
*****