The king’s silence echoed through the hall. It rang in the ears of both princess and sorcerer, of messenger and machine. As still as a statue, Arthur Cullen stared down upon the cowering Theodore Gallagher, who could only tremble under the gaze of his King. Agatha did not dare speak a word. Henrietta did not dare stay silent.

“Theodore,” The princess whispered, gripping the arms of her seat. “Where are the doctors?”

The Court Sorcerer did not look to her. From where she sat, she could only see his one brown eye, trained upon the floor. It was as though time had grinded to a halt, forcing Henrietta to watch a frozen nightmare. The spell was broken by the voice of the king, rippling through the air slowly.

“Leave us, Agatha Ogden,” he growled. Henrietta could not find the target of her father’s rage. But she was sure that everyone in the room was as scared as she was.

“Your Highness,” Agatha meekly protested, with the slightest quiver in her voice. “If I may--”

“LEAVE US!” The King bellowed. Almost instantly, Agatha snapped around towards the door, leaving without another word. Henrietta looked at Theodore with a mixture of confusion and fear. She could’ve sworn she saw him flinch just before her father had spoken.

“Mr. Gallagher,” Arthur murmured under the echo of the door closing behind Ms. Ogden. “Explain yourself.”

“The doctors,” Theodore began, mustering the courage to look his King in the eye. “Found a...peculiar mass attached to the spine of Samuel Vandenberg. It was a red...almost crystalline substance. Deep red. Like blood. It had an aura about it. I could see it.”

Arthur Cullen rose from his throne, descending the velvet stairs to approach the magician. Theodore hesitantly rose to his feet. Even on the same plane, the young man still had to look up to meet Arthur’s eyes. The king rose a hand to Theodore’s face, lightly touching the golden tattoo surrounding his silver eye.

“What did you see?” He asked in a near whisper.

Henrietta saw Theodore glance to her. Not with the silver eye, but with his brown one. The other remained fixed on the king. He looked back at Arthur and shook his head only slightly.

“Your Highness, I--” Theodore managed to squeak out. “Not in front of Henrietta. I swore to you--”

“And I release your promise,” the king interrupted. “Secrets mean nothing now. Consider yourself free to speak as you please.”

Theodore looked back at the princess once again. And hesitantly, he continued, stepping back away from the king’s hand.

“I sealed the doctors in their laboratory. They are not clean,” He began in a whisper.

“Unclean?” Henrietta replied, rising from her chair. “Theodore, what do you mean?”

“Inside the body of Sir Vandenberg, clinging to his spine, they found a gemstone. A crimson crystal that seemed to swallow all light that touched the surface. It had an aura like...bloody locusts swarming their crystal nest. I saw this with the Rotten Eye.”

“Rotten?” Henrietta said, looking between her father and her friend. She approached them both, to inquire further. Questions swarmed in her mind, and very little answers seemed to have been spoken. “What eye?”

Theodore timidly tapped the golden tattoo that surrounded the eye as grey as fog. Again, his answer only raised more questions to be had. But Henrietta did not relent in her interrogation, barely giving her father the time to open his mouth to intervene.

“Explain.” She commanded. “You will tell me everything that you’re hiding, Theodore.”

“I am not hiding anything,” He argued back to her, but was only met with anger.

“Do not feed me hollow words, if you are my friend. Were I in your place, there would be no secrets. I do not wish to turn my request into a command.”

Theodore appeared a bit surprised by her words. He did not expect her to lash out in such a way. But he had a growing feeling of guilt, looking into her eyes and seeing only hurt. A feeling of betrayal that was deafening in its silence. And so, Theodore’s spirit gave in.

“I have no right to counsel you on what you should feel,” He began, in a whisper. “But I pray you do not think less of me.”

“Speak freely. You are among friends here,” Arthur said, but Henrietta did not acknowledge him. She trained her focus on the quivering figure of the sorcerer.

“When Matthias Devitt passed away, and I was appointed the Court Sorcerer in his place, there were...instructions imparted to me. My left eye was removed and a new eye sealed in its place, with a golden brand.”

A pause followed, as Theodore tried to gauge her thoughts thus far. But her face did not alter.

“They call it, the Rotten Eye. The eye of the first Court Sorcerer of Syllina, preserved and passed between every successor as a precaution against various forms of magic. Spirits, warlocks, the like. But still, there was another purpose. To contain the Blight.”

Henrietta’s face scowled at the mention of the word. She was well aware of the disease that had ravaged the country in the midst of war with smaller kingdoms generations ago. It was a terrifying notion, the return of such a disease. But worse still, was the idea that something of such grave magnitude would be hidden from her by those she trusted most.

“The Blight...attacks the mind of anyone who approaches. It travels through the air, the water, the skin. It will twist your senses and break your mind. Victims are slowly driven to insanity...killing those around them senselessly. Like an animal. I was told--”

“Mr. Gallagher was sworn to secrecy,” the king interrupted, drawing the attention of his daughter. “He was given the Rotten Eye to detect the presence of the Blight. To protect our people from a nightmare, unimaginable.”

Theodore hung his head, gripping the seams of his cloak. He tugged them forward, as though to hide himself from Henrietta’s gaze. Her face turned a light shade of red, looking between the two figures. Her face contained nothing but heartbreak and rage.

“So that’s all? Hiding in your tower because you cannot confide in me?” She managed through a quivering lip.

“I beseech you to understand, Henrietta,” Arthur said to ease his daughter’s temper.

“I cannot!” Henrietta turned on her father with furrowed brow and an accusing finger raised to his chin. “I cannot understand! Just this morning, I was awoken to sunlight beaming throughout this castle, but now I learn I’ve lived in darkness all my life? That I am not to be trusted with matters of the kingdom? My kingdom?”

Arthur looked down upon her, with the eyes that spoke strength to so many who had gazed upon his portrait down the halls of Castle Cullen. But now they appeared all too fragile.

“No one is to be trusted, Henrietta. No one.”