Chapter 192: The Seven Awaken

The royal bedchamber of Solaria was a study in contrasts. Silk drapes the color of blood hung from ceiling to floor, their rich fabric absorbing the candlelight that flickered from a dozen silver sconces. Gold leaf traced patterns across the ceiling—the royal crest, the founding lineages, the ancient glories of a kingdom that had weathered centuries. The bed itself was a massive construction of dark oak and velvet, its canopy carved with scenes of Solaria’s greatest victories.

And in its center, propped against a mountain of silk pillows, lay a man who looked like he had already lost.

King Charles of Solaria had once been a warrior. The portraits in the great hall showed a broad-shouldered man with a lion’s mane of golden hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. The man in the bed was a faded echo of that image—his hair had gone white, his skin had gone grey, and his eyes, when they opened, held the yellowed cast of illness long untreated.

His breathing was shallow, each inhale a visible effort. Tubes and charms and crystals surrounded the bed—the desperate attempts of a dozen healers to prop up a failing body. None of them were helping.

Reinfort knelt at the foot of the bed, his battered armor still marked with the blood and grime of the battle. His weathered face was pale beneath the dirt, his hands trembling slightly from wounds that should have been treated an hour ago. But he had not sought treatment.

He had to come here first.

“Your Majesty.” Reinfort’s voice was rough, damaged from the battle, but he forced it steady. “I have to report what happened at the tower.”

Charles’s eyes, yellowed and rheumy, fixed on his old commander. His lips moved, but no sound came out at first. He swallowed, the motion painful, and tried again.

“Reinfort.” The word was a whisper, barely audible. “You’re bleeding.”

Reinfort’s hand drifted to the gash across his ribs, still seeping through his bandages. He lowered it quickly. “It’s nothing, Your Majesty. The healers will see to it.”

Charles’s laugh was a dry rasp, cut short by a cough. “You always… said that.” He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering strength. “Tell me.”

Reinfort bowed his head lower. The stone floor was cold against his knees. He would be feeling that later, when the adrenaline faded and the aches of his old body made themselves known. But later was not now.

“Prince Valdris had the princess of Melium brought to the tower. She was… confined there. A suppression collar was used.”

Charles’s eyes opened. There was no surprise in them, and that, somehow, was worse.

“Valdris.” The name came out flat. Not a question.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Reinfort’s voice was steady, but his hands curled against his thighs. “He believed he could negotiate an alliance. Marriage was discussed.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any blow. Reinfort could hear the candles sputtering, the distant sounds of the castle settling, the labored breathing of his king.

When Charles spoke again, his voice was quiet.

“He always… tried too hard.”

Reinfort said nothing. There was nothing to say.

“There was a Lich,” Reinfort continued, forcing himself to move past the prince’s failures, to the greater threat. “The same one that has hunted Princess Elise since birth. It possessed her. The suppression collar… it wasn’t enough.”

Charles’s hand moved, a weak gesture toward the window, toward the distant tower.

“The damage…”

“Extensive, Your Majesty. Several soldiers are dead. The princess’s knight lost her arm fighting the Lich. But the Lich itself…” Reinfort paused, the words strange even as he spoke them. “It was destroyed. Eaten, I believe, is the term the creature used.”

Charles’s brow furrowed. “Eaten.”

“By one of the princess’s companions. A being called Adam. He arrived at the last moment. The Lich attacked him, and he…” Reinfort searched for the words. “He simply absorbed it. Through an artifact on his brow. The Lich is gone.”

Charles was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet.

“And this Adam. He is… one of the monsters.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Reinfort’s voice did not waver. “He is not human. He is powerful beyond anything I have encountered. And he is… protective of the princess.”

Charles’s eyes, those faded summer-sky eyes, studied his commander’s face. Reading what was not being said.

“He could have killed Valdris.”

The statement was flat. Certain.

Reinfort’s head bowed lower. “He threatened to. If we tried to keep the princess.”

“And you allowed him to stay.”

“I believed it was the only way to prevent further bloodshed, Your Majesty. The soldiers were exhausted, the prince was… not in a state to command effectively, and this Adam… I do not believe we could have stopped him if he chose to leave with the princess by force.” Reinfort’s voice hardened. “And I was not certain we should try. Princess Elise did not come to Solaria seeking conflict. She was fleeing the Lich. Her knight fought alongside us against it. They are not our enemies.”

Charles let out a long, rattling breath.

“Reinfort.” His voice was thin, but there was something underneath it. Something that had once been a king. “You brought a monster into my castle. A creature that threatened my son. That killed gods know how many humans to reach the power it has.” He coughed, a wet, hacking sound. “And you want me to welcome it.”

Reinfort’s head bowed until his forehead nearly touched the floor.

“I want you to survive, Your Majesty.” His voice cracked, just slightly. “I want us all to survive. There are monsters at our borders. There is a demon army that has been pressing our defenses for months.” He looked up, his weathered face raw with honesty. “We cannot fight it. And I am not certain we should. It saved us today. That has to count for something.”

The silence stretched. The candles guttered. The king’s breathing was the only sound in the room.

Then, softly: “Melium.”

Reinfort waited.

“They will demand her back.” Charles’s eyes were closed again. “And when they hear how she was treated…”

“We have sent word, Your Majesty. I ensured it myself. The princess’s knight is being treated by our best healers. The princess herself is resting, the Lich’s influence fading from her.” Reinfort’s voice was steady. “When Melium’s representatives arrive, they will find their princess alive and unharmed. Whatever else happened here… she is not dead. That is the foundation we can build on.”

The king’s voice, thin and reedy as it was, still carried the weight of command.

“A wise decision, Reinfort. You’ve always been reliable.” A pause, a rattling breath. “But this monster… he possesses an artifact. One that can… consume?”

Reinfort lifted his head, meeting the king’s faded eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty. It manifests as a crown. And there was an aura with it—an oppressive weight. Even standing near him, I felt it pressing against my thoughts.”

Charles’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, to the gold-leaf crest of Solaria glinting in the candlelight. His voice, when it came, was distant.

“So. The Seven have awakened.”

Reinfort’s blood chilled. His hands tightened against his thighs.

“Your Majesty… surely you don’t mean—Gluttony?”

Charles’s gaze returned to him, and for a moment, Reinfort saw the ghost of the warrior-king he had once followed into battle.

“Likely. You acted correctly by not provoking him. The artifacts of sin are not to be trifled with. They can only be opposed by their equals and we have none here.” He coughed, a wet, rattling sound that shook his frame. “Oh, we could kill him, perhaps. But at what cost? Our best fighters are at the front, holding back the demon army. We cannot spare them for a fight we might lose.”

Reinfort’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The king was right. They both knew it.

Charles’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of the old sharpness returning.

“And yet… he reached the tower without warning. Our detection wards—they failed.”

Reinfort’s head bowed lower. “That is… also true, Your Majesty. But there is another factor. Our detection mages are… inexperienced. Their training is not complete.” His voice grew heavy. “We were negligent. For that, I apologize.”

The king’s laugh was a dry rasp. “Negligent.” He shook his head slowly. “We are all negligent, it seems. My son imprisons a foreign princess. Our wards fail. And a monster walks into my castle to clean up our mess.”

He closed his eyes, gathering strength.

“Then you have your orders, Reinfort. See that the mages are better prepared. And watch this creature. Watch him closely. And the princess as well.” His voice hardened, just slightly. “Whatever happens next, we cannot afford to be caught unaware again.”

Reinfort rose, his knees protesting, his wounds aching. He bowed once more.

“I understand, Your Majesty.”

“Good.” Charles’s eyes were already closing, the brief burst of energy fading. “You may go.”

Reinfort turned and walked toward the door, and left the king who was on the verge of death.

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