“King Caelus, the ships are ready to set sail at your command,” the royal guard said, standing at rigid attention before the older monarch.“Good,” King Caelus replied, nodding with the gravity of someone who had faced far too many burdens. “Set off within the next fifteen minutes. I’ll be there to see you all off. King Alastor will be grateful for your efforts.”

The guard saluted sharply, then turned to leave. As the heavy door closed behind him, King Caelus leaned back with a weariness that belied his strong, regal bearing. He turned to his advisor, his face etched with concern. “I do hope they find him. King Alastor was... less than pleased with his son’s disappearance.”

The advisor, a tall man with a wispy beard and sharp, calculating eyes behind rimless glasses, adjusted his stance. “Your Majesty, may I ask why you have taken it upon yourself to personally oversee the search for his son? This is a matter that could have been delegated.”

King Caelus exhaled slowly, his gaze distant. “Let’s just say I owe King Alastor a debt, and this is the least I can do to repay it.” He rose from the throne with a quiet resolve. “Let us head to the docks.”Without further explanation, the king strode from the chamber, his advisor following in silence, curiosity still lingering on his face.

---

Nix awoke, his body stiff and aching. Without opening his eyes, he shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. He was nestled against something warm, something solid. His drowsy mind barely registered the sensation of strong arms wrapped securely around him. Instinctively, he nuzzled closer, sighing softly at the comfort.A low chuckle rumbled from behind him, snapping him out of his peaceful haze. Nix’s eyes flew open, his body going rigid. 

“Good morning, Little Witch,” Ambrose’s voice teased, filled with playful amusement.Nix immediately pushed away, his face heating up in embarrassment. “Do not call me that! What—what were you doing?!”Ambrose raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by the sudden change in tone. “I wasn’t doing anything,” he replied calmly. “That’s how you fell asleep, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Nix stared at him, searching for any trace of dishonesty, but found none. Ambrose’s expression was sincere, and Nix could feel that he wasn’t lying. Rubbing his forehead, Nix tried to recall the events before he had lost consciousness. “I remember stepping on a flower. It was an accident—it looked beautiful, but it let out this horrible stench. I don’t remember much after that.” Ambrose nodded knowingly. “Ah, you must have found a Corpse’s Bride flower. They’re bright pink, but they release poisonous spores when threatened. It wasn’t too happy about being stepped on.” He flashed his signature dazzling smile, causing Nix to blush and avert his gaze.

Nix’s eyes wandered around the small cave they were in. “Why are we in a cave? How did you find me?”“You ran off in the wrong direction,” Ambrose explained, sheathing his sword. “I didn’t want you heading back toward that lake with the mermaids. When I found you, you were feverish. The rain was starting to come down, so I found this cave for shelter.”

“Oh...” Nix trailed off, feeling a wave of gratitude mixed with embarrassment. “Thank you. I guess we’re even now. I saved you from the mermaids, and you saved me from... whatever that flower was.”

Ambrose’s heart stirred at the sight of Nix’s soft smile, his ruby eyes glittering with warmth. He wanted to reach out, to take Nix’s face in his hands and—

Ambrose stood abruptly, clearing his throat. “You’re right. We should get moving. I’m sure Hamford’s wondering where we are by now.”

“Hamford! I hope he’s alright!” Nix exclaimed, quickly getting to his feet. His gaze fell to the two torn white cloths on the ground. Picking them up gingerly, he turned to Ambrose, who was stretching near the entrance. “Did you... rip your shirt?”

“Yeah,” Ambrose said nonchalantly. “I used one piece as a mask to get past the Corpse’s Bride and the other to keep a cool rag on your forehead while you were sick.”

“I’ll buy you a new shirt!” Nix blurted out, clutching the torn sleeves like they were precious relics.

Ambrose chuckled. “It’s alright, it was just a cheap shirt—”

“No!” Nix interrupted, his voice firm despite his flushed cheeks. “When we get to Eoten, I’m going to get you a really nice shirt. We’re not even anymore. I owe you one.”

Amused by the sorcerer’s determination, Ambrose took a moment to look at him. He imagined Nix in one of his oversized shirts, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright, alright. I’ll take the shirt,” he said, appeasing him with a gentle ruffle of his dark hair. “Let’s head out.”

Nix, his face still flushed with embarrassment, followed closely behind as they began their journey back to camp.