Married To Darkness-Chapter 414: Love In Chaos

She turned toward the door where Sebastian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, cloak draped over one shoulder. His eyes met hers.

"It’s time," he said softly.

She glanced once more at Heappal. Then she nodded, stepped back, and she knew she’ll follow the hunter into the dawn.

Thalia had gone upstairs to gather her things. The soft creak of the floorboards above was the only sound besides the quiet crackle of dying embers.

Sebastian stood by the hearth, one hand resting on the mantle, eyes fixed on the flickering flame. He didn’t turn when the physician entered the room behind him.

"He’ll live," the older man said calmly. "But he shouldn’t be moved."

Sebastian exhaled slowly, still watching the fire. "Then he won’t be."

A beat of silence passed between them. The physician moved closer, his eyes narrowed—not unkindly, but with the weight of someone who knew how to read men like books.

"You brought me a bleeding knight, a half-mad girl, and the scent of blood trailing behind you like a herald," the physician murmured. "You forget I once stood before the king too, hunter."

Sebastian turned then, just slightly, enough to meet the man’s eyes. Something cold flickered behind his gaze—calculation, or perhaps hesitation.

"You remember what happened to those who hesitated," he said quietly. "You were lucky to walk away with your hands."

The physician gave a tired smile, lifted his hands—both intact—and slowly curled his fingers into a loose, deliberate fist.

Then, with slow, measured rhythm, he tapped that fist once to his chest... and then opened it to the side, like offering something to invisible hands.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

"You’re still a clever bastard," he muttered. "But you know I won’t play a losing game."

"And yet here you are," the physician replied, "dragging the knight of the Seventh and the lady’s pet maid into your den. Are you playing or protecting, boy?"

A faint smile curled Sebastian’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He glanced toward the stairs where Thalia’s soft footsteps stirred the ceiling.

"She trusts me."

"Does she?" the physician asked softly, stepping closer. "Or does she hope too loudly you’ll betray her gently?"

Sebastian’s face remained unreadable, though his jaw clenched. "Hope makes people foolish."

"So does guilt," the physician replied, nodding toward the unconscious Heappal. "And love."

For a long moment, neither man spoke. Then the physician said, almost as an afterthought, "You’ll know when to close the door behind you. If it’s not already too late."

Sebastian looked up the stairs again, as if he could see her through the wood. And for a second—just one—his face twisted with something that might have been regret.

Or calculation.

"Good," he finally said, brushing ash from his coat. "Keep him warm. We wouldn’t want him waking up too soon."

Then he turned away, the shadow of a smirk curling his lips.

And the physician watched him go, the embers in the hearth burning just a shade too red.

Meanwhile,

Over the next days, the group—they kept moving. Traveling mostly at night, camping during twilight when the skies were grey and the stars still hiding.

The terrain changed from thick woods to rolling hills and then to broken plains with fewer places to hide.

They ran into hunters twice—skirmishes that ended fast.

Samion took out one with a thrown dagger to the throat. Jaefel moved like a shadow through the tall grass, slitting the second’s throat before he could scream.

Manni’s spells crackled like lightning, while Alaric dragged the bodies into ditches without a word. Alaric used his blade like a second limb, and Lucius grinned through the blood.

They were efficient. A strange, perfect mix of noble blood, witchcraft, and sheer survival.

And yet—beneath the camaraderie and the growing trust—something unspoken still rippled through the air.

A destination only two seemed to know.

A fear none dared to voice.

And the weight of a love unconsummated, burning quietly like a fire wrapped in silk.

The forest stretched endlessly around them, shadowed by dense trees and scattered moonlight.

Hooves thudded softly against the earth, a steady rhythm that felt almost like a heartbeat—a reminder they were still moving, still alive.

They had been riding for two days now. Night and day blurred into one continuous breathless moment. Sleep came in fits, if at all, and no one spoke more than necessary.

Except for Salviana and Alaric.

Perched on his horse behind him, Salviana leaned into his warmth, her arms looped around his waist, her voice a low hum in his ear.

They whispered. They kissed. They laughed in little bursts that felt like flickers of rebellion against the dread coiling in everyone else’s chests.

Jean tried not to watch them.

Lucius rode ahead, silent and sharp-eyed, scanning the horizon as if expecting ghosts behind every tree.

Samion and Jaefel flanked the sides, swords close and eyes wary.

Manni kept close to Sarah and Emma, his usually cheery demeanor dimmed but not extinguished—he occasionally offered a soft smile or a quiet joke, but even those felt like leaves in winter.

Jess had stayed behind in Wyf-Haven. It had been hard to leave her, but it was right. Her mother needed her.

That town needed her. And this journey—this looming storm—they all knew she wasn’t meant to face it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

No one talked about it aloud, but her absence left a quiet hole in the group’s rhythm. Like a melody missing a note.

They stopped briefly at a clearing for water, letting the horses rest.

Salviana dismounted with a soft laugh as Alaric tugged her playfully down. She swatted at him, grinning, then cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to his mouth—openly, shamelessly, as if the world wasn’t fraying at the seams.

"They’re acting like we’re off to a harvest festival," Jean muttered as he tied off his reins, unable to keep the bitter edge from his tone.

"Maybe that’s the point," Samion replied beside him. "Act like the world’s still good, even if it’s not."