The captain entered the infirmary.
Slow.
Measured.
He approached Egor's bed without haste.
"Your Majesty," he said evenly, "this will take time. You've drained both your body and your magic. You should rest. Eat."
Klaus didn't answer right away.
His eyes stayed on the healer.
Watching.
Tracking every movement.
Brod lifted Egor's eyelids.
Pressed along the gray lines spreading beneath his skin—
veins.
Swollen.
Distorted.
Wrong.
Klaus didn't trust him.
Didn't trust any of them.
But he understood something else.
If he collapsed—
if he ran out of strength—
his threats meant nothing.
He might die before he could act on them.
Behind him—
a loud, unmistakable sound.
Lilith's stomach.
She froze instantly.
Color rushing to her face as she lowered her head.
Klaus glanced at her.
Just once.
"…Fine," he said shortly.
And turned away.
—
They walked deep into the corridor.
It stretched endlessly.
Stone swallowing sound.
Footsteps fading too quickly.
At last—
open doors.
Inside—
a dining hall.
Long tables in four rows.
At the far end—
movement.
Three large stoves.
Heavy wooden tables arranged in a U-shape.
A broad-shouldered man split open a skinned carcass—
deer.
Most likely.
An axe in his hand.
A knife at his belt.
Nearby—
three women worked over a basin.
Peeling vegetables.
Fast.
Practiced.
Without speaking.
Klaus, Lilith, and the cloaked man approached.
"Glad you're back, Commander," the cook said with a grin, stirring something thick in a massive pot.
"What is it?" the captain asked, leaning closer, inhaling.
"Thick porridge. Offal."
"Three portions. Don't be stingy."
The man scooped it out.
Heavy.
Sticky.
Filled the bowls to the brim.
Bread.
Large chunks.
Three cups of steaming liquid—
something like tea.
But the smell—
sharp.
Unpleasant.
The captain carried the tray.
Set it down.
Klaus sat opposite him.
Lilith beside Klaus.
Klaus lifted the cup.
Paused.
Smelled it.
Looked up.
"Our healer made it," the captain said. "Smells terrible. Works."
He drank.
Didn't react.
Lilith watched Klaus.
Careful.
Waiting.
He took a sip.
Hesitated—
then drank the rest in one go.
Set the cup down.
Reached for the porridge.
That was enough.
Lilith didn't wait.
She ate.
Fast.
Too fast.
Despite the appearance—
it was good.
Dense.
Filling.
"You're going to eat like that?" Klaus asked, raising an eyebrow.
The captain lifted the lower half of his helmet.
Revealed pale skin.
Dark stubble.
A mouth used to silence.
"It doesn't bother me."
Klaus leaned back slightly.
Eyes narrowing.
"You ask for my trust while hiding your face."
A pause.
"I've seen you before."
Silence.
"I'm certain of it," Klaus continued.
"And I'm guessing you'd rather I didn't remember."
His voice dropped.
"So what were you?"
A beat.
"One of the men sent to kill me?"
Another.
"My father's executioner?"
"Neither."
Calm.
Too calm.
"But you're right," the man said. "We know each other. Well."
Klaus didn't look away.
"I'll show myself," the captain continued, "when your friend lives."
A pause.
"I gave you my word."
Another.
"I'll prove it first."
Klaus exhaled slowly.
"I don't like that."
A beat.
"But I understand it."
The captain's gaze shifted.
Lilith.
She was staring at his unfinished bowl.
Not even trying to hide it.
"You can ask for more," he said.
She flinched.
Looked at Klaus.
"Go," Klaus said. "Bring me another."
She moved instantly.
Took the dishes.
Left.
—
People came and went.
Constantly.
Dozens.
Then more.
No order.
No structure.
No fixed time.
And yet—
they fought like a unit.
Klaus noticed everything.
"How many of you are here?" he asked.
"A few thousand."
A pause.
"We rarely gather in one place."
A few thousand.
No banner.
No house.
No name.
"Under whose command?" Klaus asked. "For what purpose?"
The captain looked at him.
"As I said."
A pause.
"We are yours."
Klaus let out a quiet, humorless breath.
"I don't remember building an army."
"You didn't."
The man leaned forward slightly.
"I did it for you."
Silence.
"So when the time comes—"
"You'll be ready."
Klaus's eyes sharpened.
"Ready for what?"
No answer.
—
A boy rushed in.
Breathless.
"You—Commander—healer—now—"
Then he saw Klaus.
Stopped.
His eyes widened.
"Y-Your Majesty—"
He started to bow—
"Don't," Klaus cut him off.
The boy froze.
"Say nothing about who I am."
A glance to the captain.
A nod.
The boy bowed anyway—
less this time—
and ran.
—
Lilith returned.
More food.
"When you're done, go back to the infirmary," Klaus said, already standing.
He didn't wait.
The captain followed.
Lilith ate fast.
Too fast.
Barely chewing.
Then—
she finished Klaus's portion too.
Returned the dishes.
Muttered thanks.
And ran.
Stopping only at the door—
to catch her breath.
Then inside.
—
Voices.
Raised.
"Your Majesty, we cannot use your blood."
Klaus's voice—
low.
Sharp.
"And why not?"
"Does your friend have lightning magic?"
"No."
"That's the problem."
Silence.
"We need compatible magic. The same element—or something that won't reject it."
Klaus's expression changed.
Colder.
"So without that—he dies."
"No—"
Brod shook his head.
"We have mages. All elements. They can—"
"It won't work," Klaus said quietly.
The room stilled.
"Unless," he added, "you happen to have an antimage."
Silence.
"What?" Brod breathed.
"An antimage?"
All eyes turned to Egor.
Lying there.
Dying.
Rare.
Unthinkably rare.
And slipping away.
Klaus touched one of the gray veins—
now reaching his shoulder.
"How long?"
"Two hours," Brod said immediately.
A pause.
"Maybe three."
"And even if another exists—"
He shook his head.
"You won't find them in time."
—
Lilith watched him.
Klaus.
Head lowered.
Hand gripping Egor's.
Everything in him—
tight.
Strained.
Breaking.
Regret.
Guilt.
Rage.
She knew what this meant.
She knew what would happen if she spoke.
She remembered.
Pain.
Punishment.
What they did last time.
Her body trembled.
Still—
"I…"
The word slipped out.
Too late.
"I can."
Silence.
They turned to her.
She didn't look away.
Only at Klaus.
Fear locked her in place.
If they knew—
what would they do to her?
She glanced at Egor.
Then back at Klaus.
Would he protect her?
Or use her?
"…My lord," she said.
He turned.
His eyes—
empty.
"I can help."
"Do you know an antimage?" he asked.
No hope.
"Yes."
"How long?"
Now—
hope.
Sharp.
Immediate.
"It's me," she said.
"I'm an antimage."
Silence.
Heavier than before.
One dying.
Another—
standing in front of them.
Klaus moved first.
"What are you waiting for?" he snapped.
"Do it."
"Your Majesty—" Brod began carefully.
"If she's wrong—"
Klaus turned to her.
Slowly.
"If you're lying—"
He stopped.
His lips trembled.
"…he dies."
His voice broke.
"You understand that?"
She nodded.
Barely.
"Start."
"Maybe we should test—"
"Was I unclear?"
Silence.
Brod moved.
Fast.
Needle.
Vein.
Blood drawn.
Then—
Egor.
The gray vein pierced.
The transfer began.
One minute.
Five.
Ten.
Nothing.
Then—
movement.
The gray receded.
Slowly.
But unmistakably.
Back.
Toward the wound.
Someone exhaled.
Then another.
The room breathed again.
Klaus grabbed Egor's hand.
Pulse.
There.
Breathing.
Steady.
Alive.
Relief hit—
hard.
Too hard.
For a second—
he leaned forward.
Almost.
Stopped.
Instead—
he laughed.
Sharp.
Unsteady.
"Unbelievable…" he breathed.
He turned.
Grabbed Lilith by the shoulders.
"I almost left you there."
And pulled her into a tight embrace.
She froze.
Didn't move.
Didn't resist.
His words didn't matter.
Not now.
All she felt—
was warmth.
Safety.
And for the first time—
something fragile.
Something new.
Hope.