CHAPTER 491: CHAPTER 485: THE SCARS OF BETRAYAL (3)

Gregoris had barely crossed the threshold of the imperial wing when his instincts took over. Arik’s small body was trembling in his arms, his curls damp with sweat, his hands clinging to him in a way that was nothing like the boy he trained daily.

"Marin," Gregoris barked the order the moment he caught sight of a passing Shadow. His steel-grey eyes sharpened, leaving no room for hesitation. "Now. Tell him it’s urgent."

The Shadow vanished down the hall in a blur.

Gregoris pushed through the wards into the imperial suite, his grip steady though the boy’s weight felt heavier than any armor he’d carried into war. He sat down on the nearest couch, keeping Arik close, murmuring in the low, even tone he used on the training field when one of his recruits faltered.

"It’s alright, pup. Breathe. You’re safe. You’re with me."

But the boy’s breaths were uneven, shallow, his small fists curling tighter into Gregoris’s jacket. His golden eyes, usually so full of mischief and defiance, were glassy now, lost to something Gregoris could neither fight nor shield him from.

The doors opened again.

Damian and Gabriel entered like a storm contained in human form. Damian’s golden gaze locked on his son first, and in two strides he was there, his hand already reaching. Gabriel’s sharp brown eyes flicked over Arik’s trembling form, his expression unreadable except for the edge of fear burning beneath the surface.

Gregoris stood without a word, transferring the boy into Damian’s arms.

Arik immediately buried his face into his father’s shoulder, his small body shuddering against the solid warmth that had always meant safety. Damian cradled him close, unyielding even in the gentleness of the hold, his hand covering the boy’s back like a shield.

Gabriel crouched in front of them at once, his palm smoothing Arik’s damp curls back from his forehead. His voice was steady, low, the kind that could cut through storms.

"Arik," he murmured. "Talk to me. What hurts?"

The boy’s lips trembled. His voice was hoarse, broken. "Everything..."

Gabriel’s chest tightened, but his expression remained sharp, anchored for his son’s sake. He brushed his thumb over the boy’s temple, his smirk absent, replaced by something fiercer, softer. "We’ll fix it. I promise you, we’ll fix it."

Damian’s gaze didn’t leave Arik, but the conduits in the walls thrummed louder, picking up the fury he kept clamped behind his teeth.

Gregoris stood off to the side, his steel-grey eyes shadowed. He had seen his emperor enraged and seen Gabriel sharp enough to slice men apart with words alone, but this, watching them as parents, was something else entirely.

The doors opened again, and Marin swept in, his coat still half-unbuttoned from being pulled out of another wing. His presence carried none of the deference of the courtiers or Shadows, he was brisk, practical, and his eyes sharpened immediately on the boy in Damian’s arms.

"What happened?" His voice was clipped but calm, the tone of someone who had seen enough crises not to waste time.

"He said everything hurts," Gabriel answered before Damian could, his brown eyes locked on Marin as though daring him to say it was nothing.

Marin crouched in front of them, his hands clean, his movements efficient as he drew a scanner from his pocket. The device hummed faintly, casting pale light across Arik’s face and chest as it traced the boy’s vitals. The screen flickered with results that made Marin’s brow furrow.

"No lesions, no fever," he murmured, mostly to himself. "No internal ether backlash, channels are intact. Physically, he’s unharmed." His gaze lifted, steel-cold and clinical. "This is distress. Severe, but not bodily."

Damian’s golden eyes narrowed, sharp and dangerous even when holding his son. "Then why is he like this?"

Marin didn’t flinch. He reached out, brushing his fingers briefly across Arik’s wrist, gauging pulse and reaction. "Because the mind is crueler than any wound. Something triggered him: fear, memory, or ether impression. I can’t tell without time." His eyes softened, just a fraction. "But I can give him peace for now."

He shifted slightly, speaking directly to Arik with a tone far gentler than the clipped words he’d used with Damian. "Little prince. Do you want to rest? I can help you sleep. You won’t feel this anymore, not tonight."

Arik stirred against Damian’s shoulder, his golden eyes half-lidded and red-rimmed from the tears. He didn’t answer at first, his small hands gripping his father’s shirt tighter. Then, finally, a hoarse whisper: "Yes..."

Marin nodded once, already pulling a slim injector from his case. He tapped the side, calibrating the dose. "He’ll be under lightly, just enough to calm the nerves and let the mind reset."

Gabriel’s hand brushed through Arik’s curls once more, his gaze steady. "Do it."

Marin pressed the injector to the boy’s arm. A soft hiss, a faint pulse of warmth, and Arik’s trembling slowed. His breathing evened, his grip on Damian’s shirt loosening little by little until the tension drained from his small body.

The room fell into silence again, save for the soft hum of the conduits in the walls. Damian looked down at his sleeping son, the lines of his face hard as carved stone. Gabriel, still kneeling in front of them, lifted his gaze to Marin.

"How long?"

"Through the night," Marin said simply, closing the injector and setting it aside. "When he wakes, we’ll see if the storm has passed... or if it left something behind."

—

The sedative worked quickly. By the time Marin tucked his kit away, Arik’s lashes had lowered fully, his cheek pressed against Damian’s shoulder, his small breaths evening into the rhythm of deep sleep.

Damian stood carefully, his movements controlled despite the molten fury simmering beneath his composure. He shifted Arik against him as though the boy weighed nothing, his golden eyes locked straight ahead.

"Nursery?" Gregoris asked quietly, still close enough that his steel eyes hadn’t left Arik’s face.

"No," Damian said, his tone flat, final. "Our rooms."

Gabriel rose with him, his hand brushing once against Arik’s hair before settling over Damian’s arm. His expression was unreadable to anyone but Damian, but the tension in his shoulders spoke enough. "He stays with us tonight."

Marin inclined his head, his voice dry but respectful. "That will help. Familiar space and presence. If there’s a trigger, we’ll look for it tomorrow. Tonight, he needs rest."

Gabriel’s gaze cut to him, sharp even in gratitude. "You’ll stay close."

"Always," Marin said, his tone clipped but certain.

With that, Damian started toward the door, Gabriel falling into step beside him. Shadows shifted discreetly in the corridor, clearing the way without a word. The hum of conduits in the palace seemed too loud, the light too sharp against polished walls, but neither of them slowed until the suite’s doors sealed behind them.

Inside, the air softened. The wards recognized them, dimming the lights, quieting the hum to a steady, low thrum. Damian lowered Arik gently onto the bed, pulling the covers over him with a care that belied the steel in his frame.

Gabriel lingered at the bedside, smoothing a hand through his son’s curls, the tension in his jaw easing only when Arik sighed softly and turned toward the warmth.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The silence was heavy, but not empty. It was the silence of parents who both knew this was not finished.

Damian straightened, his hand brushing Gabriel’s shoulder. His voice was low, steady, but the steel in it had not dulled. "He sleeps here. And tomorrow... we find out what did this to him."

Gabriel’s brown eyes lifted, sharp and steady, his smirk ghosting at the corner of his mouth, though his voice was quiet. "Agreed."

Together, they stood watch at the edge of the bed, the hum of ether wards wrapping the room in muted light, their son safe for now between them.