CHAPTER 104: A WISH

[Imperial Palace—Throne Room]

The words struck like a thunderclap.

Lucien stood frozen at the threshold, breath catching in his throat. His hands shook violently, nails digging into his palms until it hurt. "N-no..." His voice cracked, weak and hollow. "No. Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that."

The captain flinched at the venom laced in Lucien’s trembling tone. He bowed low again, his forehead nearly brushing the marble floor. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I only—"

"You only WHAT?" Lucien’s voice rose, shrill, desperate, filled with the kind of fury that could only be born from fear. "You only came here to kill me with your words? To tell me my husband—my Silas—is buried like some nameless soldier under a mountain of snow?"

"Lucien..." the Empress whispered, reaching toward him, but Lucien stumbled back, shaking his head violently, tears already burning in his eyes.

Emperor Adrein’s voice cut through the hall, sharp as a blade. "Enough." He turned on the captain, his face thunderous. "Do you dare declare death without proof? Without a body, without a sign, without anything but your cowardly assumptions?!"

The captain’s lips trembled. "I-I... Forgive me, Your Majesty. It was not my place—"

"Not your place? Then why speak?" Adrein roared, his fist slamming against the throne’s armrest. The sound echoed through the vast chamber like the crack of doom.

"If Lord Silas were dead, Lucien would be the one who noticed first."

Lucien’s voice cracked, trembling as though the very thought was poison. His shaking hands rose to his throat, desperate, clutching at the faint heat pulsing beneath his skin—the bond mark, carved there like fate itself. His fingers brushed it as though he feared it might vanish.

"Right... it’s still there. Silas... nothing happened to him."

His chest heaved, lungs refusing to obey him, trembling from panic and relief that warred in equal measure. His lips quivered as he forced the words out, broken and raw, "He promised me he will come back... he promised me..." His voice splintered into silence, collapsing under the weight of his own heart. "...He promised he would come back."

The Empress’s eyes softened, sorrow flickering across her regal face as she lowered herself beside him, silk whispering against the marble floor. She wrapped her arms around him—not as a ruler, not even as the mother of another—but as a woman who recognized the agony of waiting for the one who held your soul. She held him close, rocking him gently as though he were a boy again.

"Shh, Lucien... Breathe, my dear. Don’t let despair steal you away. Silas is strong. He’s your Alpha, isn’t he?" Her voice was firm, almost commanding, as if by sheer conviction she could tether him to hope. "We will find him. We will."

Lucien’s tears burned hot as they slipped down his pale cheeks. He clung to her gown like a drowning man to driftwood, his whole body trembling. "I should wait... yes, I’ll wait. My Silas will come back. I know he will... I know."

***

[Rynthall Estate—Night]

The carriage wheels groaned to a halt before the Rynthall estate. Lanterns flickered against the stone walls, their glow throwing long shadows across the quiet courtyard.

Lucein stepped down slowly, Elysia bundled in his arms. Her small hands clutched his collar, her bright eyes scanning his face with a sharpness far too grown for her age. But what she found there made her frown—her mama looked... lost.

His gaze wasn’t on the estate, nor the servants bowing low, nor even on her. His eyes were fixed somewhere far away, past the heavy night sky, chasing a figure only his heart could see.

Lucein lifted his chin to the silver moon hanging over them. His lips trembled as he whispered, "Please... send him back to me... Please."

Elysia followed his gaze, blinking at the moon. Then she looked back at him, puzzled. "Mama... why are you praying to the moon?"

For the first time that night, Lucein’s lips curved—fragile, almost broken, yet tender. He brushed a kiss to her hair and murmured, "Because, little star, he listens to prayers."

Her eyes widened in wonder. She turned back to the glowing orb above, her tiny hands folding with all the solemnity her childish heart could muster.

"Moon... please... let Mama’s wish come true." She scrunched her nose, thinking hard, before adding with conviction, "I’ll give you one macron—" She paused, then quickly corrected herself, "Okay... two macrons! But only if you promise to make Mama’s wish come true."

Her small voice carried into the night, pure and earnest.

Lucein’s chest tightened. His arms wrapped around her tighter, as if she were his last tether to the earth. He buried his face in her soft hair, eyes burning as he whispered again, "Please... Silas... just come back to us."

And beneath the silent watch of the moon, his prayer mingled with Elysia’s innocent bargain—one born of love, the other of desperate need.

***

[Rynthall Estate—Lucein’s Chamber]

The room was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fireplace. Lucien sat on the edge of the bed, one hand stroking Elysia’s soft hair as she slept curled against his side. Her tiny breaths were steady, her lips parted in the innocence of dreams.

A knock broke the silence.

Lucien glanced at the door but didn’t move.

It opened anyway. Theoran Rynthall stepped inside, his usual sternness softened, though his eyes carried the weight of unspoken fears. He looked at Lucien, at Elysia, then closed the door behind him.

"I heard what happened at the Imperial Palace," he said quietly.

Lucien’s hand never stopped moving over Elysia’s head. His gaze remained on her face as he murmured, "He’s alive."

Lord Rynthall studied him, then gave the smallest nod. "I know." His voice held conviction, though faint, like a man clinging to fragile hope. He stepped closer, lowering himself into the chair opposite the bed. "I just want to tell you... please wait. Just wait a little longer. He will come back."

Finally, Lucien looked up. His eyes—red-rimmed, weary—burned with something raw. "I will. I can wait for him forever..." He paused, his voice trembling on the edge of breaking. "...but only if that forever isn’t spent in the dark. I need to know where he is. If he’s suffering. If he’s cold. If he’s... alive."

A silence hung, heavy and suffocating.

Lord Rynthall leaned forward, brow furrowing. "What are you planning to do, Lucien?"

Lucien’s jaw tightened. Slowly, he eased Elysia into the pillows, tucking the blanket around her small body as though wrapping her in a shield. Then he turned, his gaze steady, unyielding. "Please... take care of her. While I’m away."

The older man’s eyes widened. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping. "Away? Lucien, you’re not thinking—"

"I am." Lucien cut him off, voice sharper than steel but shaking underneath. "I will find my husband. I will bring him back. Or else..." His throat closed, but he forced the words out like a vow carved in stone. "...or else this journey will be the end of me."

Lord Rynthall stared at him, struck silent for a long moment. "You’re insane," he finally whispered. "Do you understand what you’re saying? What if something happens to you? What about Elysia? She needs her mama."

Lucien’s lips quivered into a small, broken smile. He looked at his daughter sleeping so peacefully, then back at his father-in-law. "And she needs her father too. She needs Silas. If there’s even the smallest chance I can bring him back to her... how can I stay here, waiting, while he’s out there—alone?"

His father-in-law’s fists clenched at his sides. "You’ll be walking into danger blind. Do you think Silas would want this? Do you think he would want you to throw your life away?"

Lucien stood, his back straightening, eyes shimmering like wet glass. "If our places were reversed, he would tear down the world to find me." His voice softened to a whisper. "So let me do the same for him."

The older man closed his eyes briefly, grief flickering across his features. When he opened them, he didn’t argue further. He only said, low and hoarse, "If you’re truly set on this... then may the gods walk beside you. Because I fear nothing else can."

Lucien inhaled sharply, steadying the storm inside him. His hand brushed over Elysia’s small, sleeping form one last time, as though drawing strength from her warmth. He rose to his feet, his jaw tight with resolve.

"I will leave before the sun sets," he said, voice firm but threaded with a quiet ache. "I am going to find my husband—"

The door slammed open with a force that rattled the chamber. Both men startled. Callen burst inside, chest heaving, sweat glistening at his temple.

"Lucien!" he gasped, words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "We... we received news—"

Lucien and Thoeram stiffened, every muscle wound taut."What news?" they demanded in unison, the air in the room snapping tight as a drawn bowstring.

Callen swallowed hard, his voice rough with urgency."Lord Silas..." he huffed again, his fists clenching at his sides. "Lord Silas is already on his way... to the Empire."

The words dropped like a blade into the silence.