Kael woke up with his head throbbing as if hit repeatedly by a hammer. His eyes opened slowly. The same barracks ceiling now felt tedious. Every muscle in his body protested as he tried to sit up, the residual exhaustion from yesterday's duel still clinging to every fiber of his being.
It wasn't ordinary fatigue; something in his bones felt hollow after exerting Aether last night, something that had been drained when the Light Aether flowed without control yesterday. He clenched his fists, trying to feel the power that usually coursed beneath his skin. It was there, but faint, like a fire about to die out from a lack of firewood.
"You're awake?" Erik asked, his voice coming from the adjacent bed. "Brok has been shouting for half an hour. Luckily you weren't punished for being late."
Kael turned his head and found Erik tying his boots with a face still half-asleep. "What time is it now?"
"Almost six. You slept like the dead, Kael. I was worried for a moment."
Kael didn't answer. He pushed himself to stand, ignoring the protests coming from every joint. Yesterday, after the duel with Marcus, he had crashed into bed without dinner, without showering, without doing anything but closing his eyes and hoping the exhaustion would go away.
But this exhaustion was different from usual. This was the price to pay for using Aether beyond his limits. Magistra Clara had warned him. "Aether is a part of your soul," Clara said one day. "Overusing it without control is like cutting off a piece of yourself."
As Kael walked toward the canteen with Erik, he could feel the stares of the other recruits. Unlike before, these stares weren't merely observant. There were whispers that stopped when he walked by, glances that darted away when his eyes met them.
"...not normal..." snippets of conversation reached his ears.
"...speed like that is impossible..."
"...I heard there's Light Aether in his family..." another replied, followed by a cynical laugh.
Kael tightened his jaw but said nothing. He was used to these whispers, even before yesterday's duel. As a farmer's son who had managed to defeat a noble's son, he was an anomaly. And anomalies always bred fear and suspicion.
"Don't think too much about it," Erik whispered as they grabbed their breakfast rations. "They're just jealous. Or scared. Both are equally bad."
"I'm not thinking about it," Kael answered in a flat voice.
"Good. Because today we have a new assignment, and I hear it's not a standard drill."
Kael looked at Erik with a question in his eyes, but Erik just shrugged. "I don't know the details either. But Thomas said it has something to do with the refugees from the north."
Morning assembly that day was different from usual. Instead of lining up on the training field, all recruits were gathered in the main hall of the military complex. On the front podium, Captain Aldric stood alongside several senior officers whose faces Kael had never seen before. A tense atmosphere hung in the air like a storm ready to break.
"Recruits!" Aldric's voice echoed in the hall. "You have all heard the news about the attack on Thornwood Fort. This morning, I will give you more complete information."
The hall fell silent. Even the recruits who usually whispered were now quietly listening attentively.
"Three days ago, the demon army attacked Thornwood with a force unseen before," Aldric continued with a heavy voice. "Not just Shadow Drakes or low-level creatures. This time, they deployed Shadow Knight units."
A rumble of shock swept through the hall. Kael didn't fully understand what Shadow Knights were, but judging by the reactions of the more experienced and knowledgeable recruits, he could deduce that it was something serious.
"Thornwood Fort has fallen," Aldric said in a lower tone. "Out of five hundred defending soldiers, only eighty-seven managed to survive. And they are currently on their way here, along with over a thousand refugees from the surrounding villages."
A thousand refugees. Kael tried to imagine that number. It was more than five times the population of Greenwood before the attack. And they had all lost their homes, perhaps lost their families, just like what he experienced thirteen years ago.
"You might be wondering why I'm telling you this," Aldric continued. "The reason is simple. You are no longer children playing soldier. You are being trained for a real war. And today, you will see the consequences of that war itself."
Aldric turned to an officer beside him, then back to the recruits. "Today, you will serve at the temporary refugee camp on the outskirts of the city. Your task is to assist in food distribution, pitch additional tents, and help the healers with light duties. This is not a drill. This is the reality of war."
Kael clenched his fists at his sides. He remembered the night Greenwood was attacked, when he and his mother had to flee with only the clothes on their backs. He remembered how other villagers helped one another, sharing food and water, sharing pain and hope. Now, it was his turn to be the one helping.
"One more thing," Aldric added before dismissing the assembly. "Among the refugees, there are those severely wounded. Some might not survive. Do not let that stop you. Help as much as you can, and learn from this experience. War does not wait for you to be ready."
In the Valdorian palace, Elara stood on the balcony of her room, gazing at the city sprawled below her. The morning light illuminated the stone buildings, watchtowers, and thousands of civilian homes beginning to buzz with daily activities. But Elara's eyes weren't focused on the scenery. Her mind was far away.
News of the fall of Thornwood Fort had reached the palace last night, bringing with it a wave of anxiety palpable even behind the thick palace walls. Her father, King Aldric II, had been in an emergency meeting with his advisors since dawn. And Elara, as usual, was left out of the room without any information.
"Princess, will you have breakfast?" the voice of Aunt Marion, her nanny since childhood, sounded from inside the room.
"Not right now, Marion," Elara replied without turning. "I'm not hungry."
Marion's footsteps approached, and then a warm hand touched Elara's shoulder. "You're worried about the refugees, aren't you?"
Elara turned, finding Marion's face, wrinkled but gentle as always. "What can I do, Marion? Father is busy with meetings. The advisors won't listen to the opinion of a young princess. And the people out there... they're suffering, and I'm just standing here watching them from above."
Marion smiled, a smile Elara had seen thousands of times since she was little. "You are more like your mother than you think. She could never sit still seeing others suffer either."
"Mother?" Elara asked curiously. Her mother had passed away when Elara was very young, and she had heard very few stories about her.
"Queen Isolde once snuck out of the palace to treat a plague in the southern district," Marion said in a distant voice, as if recalling an old memory. "She disguised herself as an ordinary healer, without anyone knowing who she really was. And she saved hundreds of lives before she eventually caught the disease herself."
Elara was stunned. She had never heard this story before. "Why did no one ever tell me?"
"Your father didn't want to bring it up too often. It's too painful for him." Marion gently stroked Elara's shoulder. "But you have the same ability as your mother, Princess. Light Aether for healing. You've been practicing since you were little. Perhaps... perhaps it is time to put that ability to use."
Elara looked at her own hands. A faint golden light flickered at her fingertips, a response to her emotions. She had practiced Light Aether since the age of twelve, but always in a safe, controlled environment. Never in a real situation. Never to save other people's lives.
"Marion," Elara said in a firmer voice. "I need your help."
The temporary refugee camp was located in an open field on the outskirts of the City of Valdoria, not far from the recruit training complex. When Kael and his group arrived, he could see hundreds of tents pitched in disorganized rows. People were moving everywhere, carrying belongings, searching for separated families, or simply sitting aimlessly with vacant faces.
The smell of sweat, dirt, and something sharper assaulted Kael's nose. The smell of blood and wounds. He recognized that smell from the night Greenwood was destroyed, and he recognized it again now.
"Group one to the food distribution area!" Sergeant Brok directed. "Group two, help build tents in the eastern sector! Group three, to the medical area!"
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Kael was in group three along with Erik and a few other recruits. They followed a young officer who led them to a section of the camp filled with large tents bearing the symbol of healing.
"Here you will help carry clean water, change bandages, and clean the area," the officer explained. "Do not touch the patients directly unless instructed by a healer. Some of them are afflicted with Dark Aether, and it can be dangerous if you don't know what you're doing."
Kael nodded along with the rest, then got to work. He picked up a large bucket and walked to the nearest well to fetch water. A simple task, but he performed it with complete focus. Every bucket of clean water meant one patient whose wounds could be cleaned. Every clean bandage meant one person who could be treated.
Hours passed. Kael lost count of how many times he walked back and forth from the well to the medical tents. His hands began to blister, his shoulders ached, but he kept working. Around him, he could see suffering he had never imagined before. Crying children looking for their parents. Men with gaping wounds in their chests. Women staring into the void with unseeing eyes.
"You," the voice of a healer called out to him. "Bring this water to the third tent from the left. There's a patient who needs to be cleaned."
Kael nodded and carried the bucket to the designated tent. As he entered the tent, his eyes were temporarily blinded by the shift from bright to dim light. The scent of medicinal herbs and something sweet, perhaps incense, blanketed the air inside.
"Put it here," a woman's voice said from the corner of the tent.
Kael followed the instruction, placing the bucket beside a makeshift bed where a middle-aged man lay covered in bandages. The woman had her back to him, busy examining a wound on the patient's arm.
"Will he survive?" Kael asked without thinking.
The woman paused for a moment, then answered without turning. "With proper care, there is hope. His wounds are deep, but missed his vital organs."
There was something familiar in the woman's voice. Kael looked at her more closely. She wore a simple gray robe commonly worn by ordinary healers, her hair loosely tied and partially covered by a headscarf. But there was something in her posture, in the way she moved gracefully even while performing dirty tasks, that made Kael curious.
"You can help me hold his shoulder," the woman said, still not turning around. "I need to clean the wound on his back, and he might move when I touch the infected area."
Kael nodded and walked to the other side of the bed. He placed his hands on the patient's shoulder gently but firmly, ready to hold him down if necessary.
The woman started working, cleaning the wound with a cloth dipped in warm water. Kael could see her hands glowing faintly, Light Aether flowing from her fingertips into the wound she was cleaning. It was a healing technique that required high control, and this woman did it very naturally.
"You have the same affinity," the woman said suddenly, still focused on her work. "Light Aether. I can feel it."
Kael was surprised. "How do you know?"
"Light Aether resonates with its own kind," the woman answered. "When you entered this tent, I could feel a familiar vibration. Weak, not fully controlled yet, but very pure."
The woman finally turned, and Kael found himself staring into a pair of very familiar green eyes.
The same eyes that had looked at him from the royal carriage last week. The same eyes that kept him awake that night, wondering why a princess could see so deeply into him with just one look.
"You..." Kael began, but Elara raised her hand to stop him.
"Don't," Elara whispered in a low voice. "Not here. Not in front of them."
Kael understood. Around them, other patients lay in critical condition. Some might hear. Some might recognize her. If anyone found out that Princess Elara was here, disguised as a common healer, a scandal would be unavoidable.
"I understand," Kael said in an even lower voice, playing along.
Night fell by the time Kael and Elara could finally speak more freely. They stood at the edge of the camp, under an old oak tree that provided a canopy from the crescent moonlight. Elara had removed her headscarf, her golden-brown hair flowing down her shoulders. The moonlight made her seem almost to glow, and Kael had to remind himself that this was a royal princess standing before him.
"Why are you here?" Kael asked directly. "Shouldn't you be in the palace, safe and protected?"
Elara smiled, but the smile wasn't entirely happy. "That's what everyone always says. 'Stay in the palace, Princess. Let others handle those problems. Your duty is to wait and look pretty.'" She mimicked a higher voice with a cynical tone. "But I can't do it. Not when I know there are people out there suffering."
"Your mother," Kael said, remembering Marion's story which he hadn't heard directly but could deduce. "She did this too."
Elara turned with wide eyes. "You know about my mother?"
"Not directly. But the way you speak... this isn't the first time a Valdorian princess defied the rules to help her people."
Elara was silent for a moment, then sighed. "She saved hundreds of lives during the plague 15 years ago. She died of the disease she was treating. Father never outright forbade me from following in her footsteps, but he never encouraged me either. I think he's afraid of losing me the way he lost mother."
Kael understood that feeling. Mara had never outright forbidden him from becoming a soldier either, but he could see the fear in his mother's eyes every time he talked about his plans.
"I guess we're the same," Kael said. "Doing what we believe is right, even if the people we love are worried."
Elara looked at him with a different gaze than before. No longer a look of curiosity or assessment, but something deeper. Understanding, perhaps. Or admiration.
"I remember the way you looked at me when my carriage passed," Elara said in a softer voice. "Not the look of someone seeing a princess for the first time. It was more like... you were looking at someone you knew. Or someone you understood."
"I'm not sure," Kael answered honestly. "At that time, I only saw eyes that didn't look at me with pity or judgment. You looked at me like I... like I was worth looking at."
Elara smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Because you are worth looking at, Kael. Not as a farmer's son, not as a new recruit, but as someone who has passed through the darkness and chose to keep fighting."
Kael didn't know how to respond. No one had ever spoken to him like this. No one had ever seen him like this. He was used to Marcus's condescending stares, his mother's worries, the fearful respect of the other recruits after yesterday's duel. But this was different. This was the first time someone had looked at him and understood.
"Thank you," Kael finally said with a hoarse voice.
"For what?"
"For seeing me. Truly."
Elara raised her hand, as if to touch Kael's arm, but stopped midway. "I have to get back to the palace before dawn. Marion is waiting by the side door. But... I will come back. Tomorrow, and onward, for as long as the refugees need help."
"I will be here," Kael said. "My duty at this camp will last for a week."
"Good." Elara smiled broadly, a smile that made her eyes sparkle. "You can help me with the more difficult patients. I saw how you worked earlier. You don't just do a job. You really care. That's rare."
"I was once a refugee," Kael replied in a flat voice. "I know what it feels like to be looked at with pity. I don't want others to feel the same way."
Elara nodded with an understanding that needed no words. Her eyes drifted to Kael's right hand which occasionally gripped his left shoulder tightly, a reflex gesture from the lingering exhaustion of the previous day's duel.
"Your movements are stiff," Elara said, not as a question. She stepped closer and gently pulled aside the collar of Kael's training uniform on his left shoulder, revealing smooth skin without physical scars, but the muscles beneath were tense like freshly struck iron. "This isn't a physical wound, but..."
"Thirteen years ago," Kael tensed for a moment, but didn't pull away. His voice became heavy. "In my village, I saw my father die in this spot. The claws of a Shadow Drake tore his chest right in front of my eyes. I wasn't physically hurt then, but..." He took a deep breath. "Sometimes, the deepest pain is exactly the one that leaves no visible scars."
Elara lowered her hand, looking at Kael with different eyes. Not pity, but something deeper. Respect, perhaps. Or awe.
"And your father?"
"Didn't survive." Kael's answer was flat, but Elara could hear the suffering behind the words. "He gave his life so my mother and I could escape. That's why this shoulder feels heavy. Not because of a wound, but because of the burden of living on when he couldn't."
"Now I understand," Elara whispered. "Why you fight like that. Why you never give up. You're not fighting for yourself, are you? You're fighting for everyone who can't protect themselves. For people like your father."
Kael didn't answer. He didn't need to. Elara had understood something he himself had only realized a few years ago.
The next day, Kael returned to the refugee camp with a different mindset. The previous night had changed something inside him. Not just about the meeting with Elara, though that was a big part of it. There was something more fundamental. For the first time since joining the military, he felt his journey had a deeper meaning than just fulfilling his vow.
He was no longer just an angry, vengeful boy. He was someone who had a reason to fight. And that reason wasn't just the past, but also the future. A future where he might be able to protect people like these refugees, people like Elara who had a good heart but were in a vulnerable position.
As he entered the medical tent to begin his duties, he found a different atmosphere than the day before. The healers were moving more hurriedly, and tense whispers could be heard in every corner.
"What happened?" Kael asked one of the nurses he recognized.
"There's a new patient," the nurse answered with a pale face. "Found at the edge of the forest. Two soldiers from Thornwood Fort. And... there's something strange about them."
"What do you mean?"
"See for yourself," the nurse nodded toward the furthest tent. "But be prepared. These are not ordinary wounds."
Kael walked toward the indicated tent. Inside, he found Elara was already there, standing by the side of a bed with a tense expression. When she saw Kael, her eyes conveyed something that made the hair on Kael's neck stand up.
"Kael," Elara called with a trembling voice. "I think you need to see this."
Kael approached and looked at the patient on the bed. The soldier was still alive, his breathing rapid but his eyes closed. All over his body were pitch-black wounds, unlike any normal physical injury. The wounds moved, pulsating like something alive beneath his skin.
"Dark Aether," Kael whispered, recognizing the signs he had read about in books on the Aether system. "He was struck by Dark Aether."
"And it won't stop," Elara said with a voice full of fear. "I tried to cleanse it with Light Aether earlier, but... it resists. Like there's something fighting back from the inside. And the victim... he's not just wounded. He's... changing."
Right as Elara said the last word, the patient's eyes snapped open. But they were not human eyes that looked at Kael. The eyes were pitch black, without any white at all, and inside them was something that caught Kael's breath in his throat.
"They... are coming..." the patient's voice came out unhuman, rumbling as if from somewhere very far away. "Malachar... wakes... he... wakes..."
Then the patient went silent, his body convulsing violently before finally falling still. Elara quickly checked his pulse, and her face turned deathly pale.
"He's... he's gone," Elara whispered. "But not because of the wounds. I can feel it. His soul... is gone. Destroyed."
Kael stared at the lifeless body with a feeling he couldn't name. Malachar. A name he had never heard directly before, but he knew from history books. The Demon King. The source of all darkness that had haunted the world for a thousand years.
"Wakes," Kael repeated the patient's words with a heavy voice. "What did he mean by 'Malachar wakes'?"
Elara didn't answer. She just looked at Kael with eyes full of fear and something else, something that made Kael realize his life would never be the same again. The war that had gone on for thousands of years might have just entered a new chapter.
And Kael, whether he was ready or not, was right in the middle of it.
— To be continued in Chapter 10 —