Chapter 15

Cain stood outside of the room where Abel had been confined to ever since they returned from the dreadful tower. Krystal and Kelgar had taken them to the attic of an inn called The Dragon's Nest, far enough away from the towers to be safe. Once or twice he began to lean against the wall, but immediately straightened, the untreated lacerations on his back sending pulses of heated pain down his spine. He stared blankly up at the ceiling, his arms crossed careful to as to not disturb the burns that still stung.

Prince Marth leaned on the wall about a foot away, his worried blue gaze fixed on the soldier who had an unreadable expression. The silence was uncomfortable, but there was nothing to say.

Before long, the door to the room opened. Lena and Krystal emerged; after the latter had returned to her normal self, the two had become quick friends. However, as they politely addressed the prince, their faces were grim and pale. Cain snapped out of his blank stare, suddenly giving the two healers his full attention, and resisting the urge to barge into the room without invitation.

"How's he doing?" Marth asked, uncrossing his arms from his chest.

Exchanging a quick glance with Krystal, Lena frowned as she gave the bad news. "The dark magic really took a toll on him," she explained slowly. "It seems the most targeted area was his mind." She hesitated. "It's hard to help if we don't know what we're healing."

Cain's clenched his hands into fists. He didn't know what he was expecting; that Abel would suddenly be awake and well again, ready to practice sparring in the field? Even though he knew that it was impossible, a piece of him still wanted to believe that this was nothing more than a bad dream. He took a deep breath and finally spoke. "Can we see him?"

Lena nodded, and moved out of the way. Cain took a step forward to enter, but Krystal reached her hand out and gently touched his shoulder. "Cain," she spoke firmly, but there was an undertone of desperation in her voice. "Please, let us help you."

Cain's lips tightened into a thin line. "I can bandage my own wounds. You need to put all your energy into helping Abel." His tone left no room for argument, and his dark and tired eyes narrowed. He shrugged her off and stepped through the doorway, anxious to see the green-haired man, even if he wasn't awake yet.

As he caught sight of the unconscious soldier, Cain's breath caught in his throat. Abel's dark skin looked unnaturally pale. The redhead didn't move until he saw the gentle rise and fall of Abel's chest, and then he let out a long breath, grabbing the back of a chair that sat in the corner and moving it next to the bed before slumping down in it.

Marth followed him into the room, frowning as he saw the deathly state that Abel was in. He gently placed his hand on Cain's shoulder in empathy. Cain jumped at the sudden touch, but didn't push him away. Not taking his eyes off Abel, he rested his head in his hands.

"He doesn't deserve this," Cain mumbled in a voice so quiet that Marth wondered if he had even been supposed to hear it.

Marth glanced down; he couldn't read the mixture of emotions lingering in Cain's eyes, but he could guess well enough how he was feeling. "No one does," he murmured in response.

His hands balled into fists, Cain didn't bother to fight the frustrated tears that brimmed in his eyes and allowed them to stream slowly down his face. After a moment he spoke again, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm going to stay here for a while longer."

Nodding, Marth hesitated for a moment before turning to leave. Glancing over his shoulder, he realized again just how close the two cavaliers were. When they were separated, it was like seeing one lonely half of a soul. With a small sigh, he left Cain in peace, quietly shutting the door behind him.


For the next few days, Cain rarely moved from the chair besides Abel's bed. Surprisingly, the redhead did not keep silent. Often times, when one passed the room, they could hear Cain talking to Abel, mostly reminiscent stories from years past and tales of the mischief they had gotten into.

Late one night, with growing concern for Cain now as well as Abel, Jagen reached for the door handle to check on the two cavaliers. However, he stopped when he realized how oddly quiet the room was. Opening the door slowly, he stepped across the threshold to find Cain fast asleep, his back arched as he slumped on the side of the bed, resting his head on his arms.

Feeling a stab of sympathy, Jagen plucked the duvet from the other bed in the room and draped it across Cain's slightly shivering shoulders. He stood there for a moment longer, looking at the young cavaliers. He'd never had time for a family of his own, but had treated the two of them as sons, and it pained him to see them go through so much. After sending a quick prayer to the Gods asking for Abel's safe recovery, he slipped out of the room.