Unseen

The soft light of dawn barely broke through the curtains of the castle’s infirmary. Max stood by Vera’s bedside, his face a mixture of worry and exhaustion. Zach paced the room, unable to sit still as healers tended to Vera, their hands moving deftly over her with soft incantations and herbal remedies.

Vera lay still, her face pale, beads of s weat forming on her forehead. Her breaths were shallow, and despite the healers’ best efforts, she remained unconscious.

“She’ll come around,” one of the healers, an older woman with sharp eyes and a gentle touch, assured them. “The journey must’ve taken a toll on her. But with the herb you brought, we can begin stabilizing her.”

Max nodded, though his heart felt heavy. He glanced at the satchel containing the rare herb they had risked everything to retrieve. The witch’s blessing had helped secure their path, but this unexpected turn with Vera had left him rattled. “How long will it take?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The healer, holding a small vial filled with the crushed herb, looked at him with a calm but firm gaze. “The herb works fast, but the body needs time to heal itself. We can only wait.”

Zach finally stopped pacing, his hands clenched into fists. “Why now? We were so close,” he muttered, his frustration evident. He wasn’t one to sit by while others suffered, especially when he felt powerless to help.

Max reached out and placed a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “She’s strong. She’s made it through worse.” His voice, though steady, was filled with a quiet desperation. They had faced countless dangers together, and the thought of losing Vera, now, just when they had finally completed their quest, gnawed at him.

The healers worked in silence, mixing the herb into a potion, which they gently poured down Vera’s throat. Her body remained still, the only sign of life being the faint rise and fall of her chest.

“Is there anything else we can do?” Max asked, his voice breaking the quiet.

The lead healer shook her head. “She needs rest. The herb will do its work. We’ll monitor her, but for now, there’s nothing more to be done but wait.”

Max ran a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. Waiting was the hardest part. Every second felt like an eternity, each one stretching out as if time itself had slowed.

Zach, finally giving up his pacing, sank into a chair beside the bed. He stared at Vera’s still form, his expression unreadable. “What happened out there?” he finally asked, his voice low. “She was fine, and then—suddenly—this.”

“I don’t know,” Max admitted. “But something changed. It was like the moment we crossed back into the kingdom, something… took over.” His eyes darkened with the weight of uncertainty. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they had brought something with them, something unseen that had latched onto Vera.

Hours passed with little change. The room grew colder as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The air was thick with tension, the silence only broken by the occasional murmur of the healers and the steady drip of water from a nearby basin.

Max stood vigil by Vera’s side, refusing to leave her for even a moment. His mind raced, replaying the events of their journey over and over again, searching for any clue, any moment where things might have gone wrong.

Zach, though restless, had eventually dozed off in the chair, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. Max envied him, but sleep was the last thing on his mind.

Suddenly, a faint groan escaped Vera’s lips. Max shot up, leaning over her, his heart pounding in his chest. “Vera?” he whispered, hope flaring within him.

Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t wake. Her body shifted slightly, and Max noticed her breathing had deepened. It wasn’t much, but it was a sign—the herb was working.

A healer approached, checking her pulse and nodding in approval. “She’s stabilizing,” the healer said softly. “It will take time, but she’s on the right path.”

Max exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He glanced at Zach, who was still asleep, and felt a small sense of relief. They had done it—they had saved her.

But as he sat back down, a nagging thought continued to plague him. Vera might be healing, but something still felt wrong. Something darker, unseen, lingered in the air, like a shadow that refused to leave.

They had secured the herb, brought it back in time to save Vera. Yet, as Max stared at her pale face, a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered that their journey wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

————

Max stood at the doorway, casting a last glance at Vera lying unconscious on the bed. His gut twisted at the thought of leaving her, but he had responsibilities pulling him back to his clan. He knew what had to be done.

“I need to go,” Max said, his tone firm, addressing Zach without hesitation. “My clan can’t hold much longer without me.”

Zach didn’t look up immediately, his focus still on Vera, but when he did, his expression was steady—calm, but resolute. “I know.”

Max frowned, the lack of protest catching him off guard. “You’re… alright with that? Leaving her like this?”

Zach met his gaze directly, his voice strong and unwavering. “Max, you have a duty. We both do. I’m more than capable of handling things here.” He stood up from Vera’s side, crossing his arms. “She’ll be taken care of. You need to go back to your people, and I’ll keep her safe in the meantime.”

Max studied him, feeling the weight of his own words mirrored in Zach’s. He appreciated the directness, the lack of any emotional pull. It was two leaders speaking to each other. “I’ll hold you to that,” Max replied, his tone sharpened with the gravity of the situation. “But if anything happens—”

“It won’t.” Zach cut him off firmly. “You’ve trusted me before, and you can trust me now. I’ll handle this.” His voice was commanding, leaving no room for doubt or debate. “Go. Take care of your clan. I’ll send word if anything changes.”

Max nodded, satisfied. Zach wasn’t some sentimental guard; he was a king, fully capable of handling the situation. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

Zach gave a curt nod, not wasting any words. The tension between them wasn’t from uncertainty but from the unspoken respect both men held for one another. They both knew what was at stake.

Without another word, Max turned and left the room, his mind now split between Vera and the clan he needed to return to. Zach, meanwhile, returned to his post beside Vera, his attention sharp and ready for whatever came next.

As Max disappeared into the night, Zach watched the door close, his jaw tight. “You’ll make it through this, Vera,” he muttered under his breath, his voice like steel. “We all will.”

—————

The room was quiet, save for the steady crackle of the fire in the hearth. Zach sat in the dim light, his gaze fixed on Vera, her still figure lying peacefully beneath layers of blankets. Her breathing was even, but she had yet to wake. The herb they had brought back was supposed to help, but time seemed to stretch longer than Zach liked.

He rested his hand on Vera’s, feeling the warmth of her skin. The silence between them weighed heavy, each passing second filled with the tension of waiting—waiting for her to open her eyes, for her to return.

But then, a sound—a faint, rhythmic pulse—cut through the quiet. Zach’s brow furrowed, and he listened more intently. The sound was soft at first, barely noticeable, but there it was again. Steady. Repeated. Like a heartbeat.

His heart skipped a beat. He placed his hand gently on Vera’s stomach, and there it was—stronger now, more real. The sound wasn’t coming from Vera herself, but from within her. His eyes widened as the realization hit him like a storm.

The heartbeat of their child.

Zach’s breath caught in his throat, a mixture of disbelief and awe washing over him. His hand remained on Vera’s stomach, almost afraid to move, afraid the sound would vanish. But it didn’t. It stayed. A steady, strong beat.

For a moment, Zach was frozen, listening to the life inside Vera. The life they had created. His pulse quickened, not out of fear or panic, but from something entirely different—something that felt almost like hope.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “I can hear you,” he murmured, his hand still gently resting over her womb. “You’re there.”

The weight of everything—the battles, the dangers, the uncertainty—seemed to dissolve in that moment. All he could focus on was that heartbeat. A part of Vera, a part of him. Their future.

He leaned down closer, his lips near Vera’s stomach, speaking softly, as though their child could hear him. “You’re strong, just like your mother.”

Zach straightened, his hand still pressed firmly on her, as if by doing so he could protect them both. He didn’t know when Vera would wake, but now it felt like they weren’t alone in this anymore. There was someone else with them, someone he would protect with his life.

The room was still, and the only sound that mattered was the steady rhythm that filled the silence.