Chapter 37

The door to King Alexander's chamber creaked as Kaden pushed it open. The room that was once filled with warmth and the lingering scent of cedar and ink, now reeked of sickness.

The King lay amidst a mountain of blankets, his powerful frame shrunken by the illness. His broad shoulders, which had carried the weight of the kingdom for several decades was frail and sunken. His once thunderous voice, capable of silencing entire halls, was reduced to shallow breaths.

"Father." Kaden's voice cracked as he approached the bedside. The King's eyes barely flickered open. When they did, they were glassy, unfocused, staring past Kaden.

"My lord," a healer said softly, bowing as he approached. His face was lined with exhaustion. "We have tried everything—herbs, tonics, even rare elixirs brought from the east. The illness resists all treatment. It is beyond—"