Chapter 8: A Hopeless Cry

The castle stood still, eerily silent, as the dust of the battle began to settle. King Mathias sat slumped in his throne, the weight of his body leaning against its high back. His shoulder was wrapped in a rough bandage, the pain from the sword wound still pulsing deep within. It had been hours since the assassins had left, but the lingering threat of their presence seemed to hang in the air, suffocating the once lively castle with an oppressive silence. The halls, usually filled with the sounds of guards marching, servants attending, and the voices of family, now felt like an abandoned tomb.

Mathias could barely concentrate, his thoughts constantly spiralling. His mind returned again and again to his family—Namia, Liria, Belin—and the unknown fate they had met in their flight from the castle. He had felt a fleeting moment of relief when he realized they had managed to escape, but the uncertainty of what awaited them outside these castle walls gnawed at him like a hungry beast. What had they faced after escaping the castle? Were they safe? Were they even alive?

"Your Majesty," a voice called from the doorway, snapping him from his thoughts.

King Mathias turned to see one of his remaining guards, a young man named Edrin, standing at attention. The guard's face was grim, his expression filled with concern, but he held his posture proudly.

"What news?" the king asked, his voice hoarse. He had barely spoken in hours, only giving orders and watching the events unfold, powerless to stop them.

"Your Majesty, the assassins are gone. The castle is secure," Edrin replied, his words echoing in the quiet of the throne room. There was a strange finality in his tone. The battle was over, the assassins had left, and there was no immediate danger. But it did little to quell the fire of worry burning in Mathias's chest.

Mathias sighed in relief but felt a deep pit in his stomach. "Are they truly gone? Have you secured every corner of the castle? Every hallway? Every tower?"

"Your Majesty, yes. We've combed the entire castle, and there are no signs of them remaining. It seems they've left."

Mathias closed his eyes, a brief flash of hope flickering through him, only to be replaced by the overwhelming fear of the unknown. They're gone, but where are Namia, Liria, and Belin? he thought bitterly. What if they aren't safe?

The king knew better than to believe the silence meant peace. He had survived wars and treachery; this was no different. A castle could be empty, but that did not mean its enemies had disappeared. He could already hear the whispers in the shadows, the plots unfolding beyond his sight. He clenched his jaw, trying to push the spiralling thoughts away, but they only intensified.

"I want every man who can hold a sword to start searching for my family immediately," Mathias commanded, his voice suddenly sharper. He had to know. He had to hear word of them. His heart ached with the desperate need to find his wife and children, but each passing moment without news of them tightened the vice around his chest. His orders were issued quickly, though the stress of the day was evident in his voice.

The guard, Edrin, hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "At once, Your Majesty," he said, before turning to carry out his orders.

The room fell silent once more, but the quiet was unbearable to Mathias. His heart thudded in his chest, his body burning with the agony of a thousand unanswered questions. He knew he couldn't let this gnaw at him. He had a kingdom to protect, and a war to fight if it came to that.

"Your Majesty," Edrin returned after a time, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "I've sent out every available guard to search for the queen and the children. We will find them."

The King nodded, though his eyes remained distant. His grip on the armrests tightened as he steeled himself against the rising tide of hopelessness. "Make sure they don't return until they have news of them," he said in a voice that held no trace of the kingly command he used to possess—only desperation.

The guard nodded again, his face grim as he turned to leave, but before he could exit, a figure appeared at the threshold of the throne room. It was the commander of the guards, Alaric, a seasoned veteran of the royal guard. His face was streaked with dust and blood, a sign of the battle he had endured only hours before. But his presence brought a sense of urgency.

"Your Majesty, there is something you must know," Alaric said, his voice carrying the weight of a troubling revelation.

King Mathias turned to face him, his expression hardening. "What is it?"

"The search parties have returned empty-handed. Not one of them has found any trace of the queen, Princess Liria, or Prince Belin," Alaric replied, his tone laced with regret.

For a moment, Mathias felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under him. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart seemed to stop beating altogether. His mind whirled. "What do you mean? You sent out every available man, didn't you?"

"We did," Alaric confirmed, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But we found no sign of them. No traces of their path. No evidence of any camp or shelter. It's as though they vanished into thin air."

Mathias struggled to keep his composure. His face turned a sickly shade of pale as his fingers dug deeper into the armrests of his throne. "Vanished? How is that possible?" He struggled to maintain control of his voice, but the anger, the fear, and the despair bubbled to the surface.

"We'll keep looking, Your Majesty," Alaric added, trying to offer some semblance of hope.

"I don't want empty promises!" King Mathias said coldly, his voice low and dangerous. "I want results!"

The captain bowed his head. "Yes, Your Majesty. I will send out more men. We won't stop until we find them."

As the hours passed, The King remained on his throne, hardly moving except for the occasional glance toward the doorway. He tried to focus on his duties—on the safety of his kingdom—but his thoughts always returned to his family, to Namia, Liria, and Belin. His world felt as though it were collapsing, piece by piece, and he could do nothing to stop it.

The day stretched on, and the room grew colder, even as the sunlight began to fade. The castle seemed more desolate with every passing moment, its walls closing in around him. The silence, once a welcome reprieve, now felt like a crushing weight.

As the last of the daylight slipped away, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hall. Mathias turned his head toward the door, his breath catching. A guard entered, his face weary and grim, but this time, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a glimmer of hope.

"Your Majesty," the guard said, his voice shaky. "I—I have news."

Mathias leaped to his feet, his heart racing in anticipation. "What is it? Have you found them?"

The guard hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting the king's eyes. "No, Your Majesty. I've searched all across the borders. There is no sign of them anywhere. No trace. Nothing."

The king's stomach twisted in agony, and for a moment, it felt as though his very soul had been ripped from him. His grip tightened around the armrest of his throne; his knuckles white with anger. "Nothing?!" he roared, his voice echoing in the empty hall. "You've searched all this time, and found nothing? What do you mean by that?"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I—" the guard stammered, but The King's fury cut him off.

The king stood, his rage a tempest of emotion that he could no longer hold back. "You've failed me! You've failed my family!"

The guard stepped back, but the words had already been spoken. In that moment, The King lost what little hope he had left. The future was a vast, empty void, and he could see no way out. The kingdom he had sworn to protect now seemed doomed, its royal family scattered, possibly lost forever.

And in that despair, King Mathias's heart began to crack. The fire inside him, the will to fight, felt as though it had been snuffed out. What was left to fight for now? What could he do, when the one thing he loved most was beyond his reach?