The Prince and His Loyal Hound

The next morning, long before the sun had fully risen, Caelan, Alaric, and the selected recruits departed.

They left quietly — no grand send-off, no farewells. Just the steady sound of hooves fading into the northern mist.

August stayed behind.

And that's when it began again.

The dream.

That same endless field. That same distant starlit sky.

That same child.

Laughing. Mocking. Blaming.

"She's going to die soon~"

August jolted awake, breath catching in his throat, sweat clinging to his skin. His hand reached out instinctively—

"Caelan—!"

But the space beside him was empty.

Silent.

He stared at the ceiling, heartbeat pounding in his ears, before slowly leaning back against the bedframe. The familiar ache settled in his chest.

"Right... today's the departure day..." he muttered, voice raw.

For a moment, he just sat there in the quiet, eyes distant.

Then, with a slow breath — just like Caelan had taught him — he began to steady himself.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Again.

He was alone now.

And he had to hold himself together.

During his time alone, August buried himself in paperwork.

Document after document. Policy drafts, estate reports, letters from the capital. Anything to keep his mind from wandering — and it worked, for the most part.

He met daily with Duke Cidric to discuss the logistics of the northern research team, the monster surge patterns, and which scholars would be arriving from the palace. They kept it formal in tone, but light enough not to feel like court.

And then, in a rare moment of peace, he found himself at a small table in the west garden — a porcelain teacup in hand, across from a very serious host.

Mary.

She sat straight-backed, chin high, wearing a tiny navy-blue dress and a determined expression that outshone most court ladies tenfold.

"You're not allowed to slouch," she said primly, mimicking something she must have heard from her tutors.

August blinked, then gave a small, bemused smile.

"Understood, Lady Mary."

She poured imaginary tea with careful grace, and unlike anyone else at court, Mary never once tried to touch him. No sudden hugs. No reaching for his arm.

She simply enjoyed his company.

Respectfully. Quietly.

It was… refreshing.

He took a sip of the (empty) teacup and gave her a proper nod.

"This might be the most dignified tea I've had in years."

Mary beamed. "That's because I'm a proper lady. Unlike Lady Durent — she talks too much."

August nearly choked on nothing.

"...Noted."

They sat together a while longer, the soft rustling of leaves and distant hooves their only company.

For a brief moment, the world was still.

But peace, for August, never lasted long.

◇◇◇

On Caelan's side of the mission, the first few days were rough.

The monsters came in waves — shrieking, shifting things that looked more like ink smudges and rippling shadows than anything truly solid. Their movements were erratic, their forms gelatinous and twisted. Like nightmares that hadn't fully formed.

They didn't bleed. They didn't scream. They pulsed.

But they died.

If you struck the core.

It glowed faintly within them — a flicker of red or white, buried in the mass. You had to be fast. Precise.

Caelan and Alaric? It was like slicing through cheese.

The others… managed.

Ryeon was steady, eyes sharp, his spear never missing its mark. Tae was fast, light on his feet, daggers gliding through the air like silver streaks. Eren followed Caelan's movements as if mimicking his shadow.

Even Darin, despite his size, moved with surprising care — grunting but never faltering.

But Arin—

Arin screamed.

Loudly.

A high-pitched, very unnecessary sound as one of the monsters reared up in front of him.

It hadn't even touched him yet.

And then it grew.

The creature twisted and expanded, doubling in size with a sickening lurch.

Caelan's eyes narrowed. She dashed forward and sliced it down with one clean movement — the core shattering like glass.

Later, as the group caught their breath under a thicket of trees, she turned to the others.

"They feed on fear." Her voice was calm, but firm. "If you lose your composure, they grow stronger."

Arin raised his hand weakly. "In my defense, it was really ugly—"

"Arin," Caelan said, without looking at him, "You're on clean-up duty. Help Sori. No more fighting."

He pouted. "But I can totally stab one if—"

"Help. Sori."

Sori giggled softly and offered him a rag and a small bucket. "Come on, Sir Screams-a-lot. I need someone to hold things while I actually work."

He grumbled, but followed.

The mood lightened just a bit. Enough for Caelan to release a breath and glance toward Alaric, who was already making notes for the report they'd send back.

"We need to figure out where they're coming from," she muttered.

"Or who sent them," Alaric replied under his breath.

Their eyes met.

And for a brief second, both felt it — the stillness wasn't peace.

It was a warning.

For a while, it was quiet.

Too quiet.

With no monsters in sight, Caelan and the group pushed deeper into the forest — the sunlight above dimming into a mosaic of filtered shadows and swaying leaves. Birds no longer sang. Even the wind seemed hesitant.

And at that same moment… back in the Thorne estate…

August finally allowed himself to rest.

The silence of the estate, paired with the warmth of sunlight spilling through the tall windows, lulled him into an unguarded sleep. His breathing steadied. His shoulders dropped.

It felt… peaceful.

But peace never lasted.

The dream returned.

Same field. Same child. But this time, the laughter had vanished.

August stood paralyzed, his heart racing — and there, at his feet, was Caelan.

Motionless. Blood blooming beneath her like crushed petals.

In her arms — Mary.

The little girl's face, serene in stillness, tucked against Caelan's chest.

Then came the voice again.

"I told you~"

"She'll die soon~"

"You killed her~"

The giggle followed, light and cruel. Closer. Closer.

August woke with a start, gasping, drenched in sweat. His hands trembled as he pressed them to his face, willing the image away, his breathing uneven.

He was alone. Again.

And that silence — that empty stillness — it wasn't peace anymore. It was warning.

◇◇◇◇

Back in the forest...

It happened all at once.

The ground shuddered faintly beneath their boots, the trees swaying harder than the wind warranted. The air turned sharp — metallic, unnatural.

And then they came.

Dozens. No — hundreds.

Monsters poured from between the trees, rising from the earth like smoke. Ink-black bodies pulsing, cores flashing in and out of visibility. These weren't like the others.

They were faster. Stronger. Angrier.

Their bodies still dissolved with clean strikes — but the numbers… the speed…

Caelan drew her blade with a sharp hiss of steel. "Formations! Defend the backline!"

The recruits scrambled into position — Ryeon already at her side, spear spinning in tight arcs, calm as ever. Tae covered Galen and Sori. Darin blocked two monsters with his sheer bulk and roared in return. Eren was already moving, slicing fast between shadows.

But even with coordination, they were being overrun.

Caelan's sword sang through the chaos, her eyes burning. She glanced toward Alaric, who was already slashing through another wave with gritted teeth.

"This isn't random!" he shouted over the noise. "This feels planned!"

Caelan didn't answer — but she felt it too.

This wasn't a hunt. It was an ambush.

And someone… or something… wanted them dead.

◇◇◇◇

In their desperate focus, they didn't notice the blur behind them.

Not until it was a second too late.

From the corner of her eye, Caelan saw him — August, breathless, wide-eyed, standing in the middle of chaos.

Mumbling something.

A monster surged behind him, too fast to shout in time.

Without hesitation, Caelan lunged. The strike meant for him slashed across her shoulder instead. Blood blossomed as she gritted her teeth, blade flashing as she cut the creature down in one clean motion.

"Your Highness!" she snapped, her voice sharp despite the pain. "What are you doing here?!"

Another monster rushed, and she threw herself between it and him again.

"Everyone — new formation! Protect His Highness! We're retreating!"

Her voice cut through the battlefield like steel.

August barely moved, still stuck in a daze, lips parting with a single word.

"Mary…"

Alaric whipped his head around. "Mary? She's here?"

August's eyes didn't leave the trees. "I couldn't find her in the estate so I—"

"It's alright!" Caelan cut him off, steady despite the blood staining her uniform. "I'll find her. You—go. Now. With Ryeon and Darin. Get to the camp site."

She turned rapidly, barking out orders between breaths.

"Alaric, hold them off from the left!"

"Darin — send Arin back to the estate! If she's still there, he'll find her!"

"Tae, clear me a path. I'm going deeper."

Then she turned to August again, eyes fierce.

"And you! Do not let your fear show — the monsters feed on it!"

Before he could answer — before he could even protest — Caelan was gone, disappearing into the trees, sword drawn, blood trailing behind her.

The world blurred.

The next thing August knew, he was at the camp.

Safe.

But his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

His ears rang.

And all his mind could see… was the scene from his nightmare.

Caelan, bloodied.

Mary, still.

And that voice…

"You killed her~"