Chapter 93 Chapter 94

Chapter 93 Chapter 94
That night, when the academy had finally grown quiet and even the restless students had fallen asleep after the long day of tournaments and shocking revelations, Varian found himself standing in a place he had not seen in years.

It was not the academy.

It was not the forest.

It was not even the palace.

It was the old royal garden, the one that existed only in memory now, untouched by time, glowing softly under a silver moon that felt too perfect to be real.

He knew immediately that he was dreaming.

And yet it did not feel like an ordinary dream.

The air was too still.

The silence too heavy.

Then he heard her voice.

“Varian.”

His body stiffened.

Slowly, he turned.

She stood there dressed in white, her long dark hair flowing gently even though there was no wind, her blind eyes still as soft as he remembered, her presence calm but carrying a weight that pressed against his chest.

Azania.

His mother.

He did not speak.

He only stared at her.

She stepped closer, her movements graceful and quiet, as if she had always belonged in places between light and shadow.

“Your father is in danger,” she said gently, but there was urgency beneath her calm tone. “You must save him.”

Varian’s jaw tightened.

“My father?” he repeated coldly.

“Yes,” she answered. “King Vyrian is dying.”

His expression hardened instantly.

“I don’t care,” he said simply.

Azania’s face did not change, but there was sadness in her silence.

“You must care,” she insisted softly. “He is your father.”

“He was never a father to me,” Varian replied sharply. “He was a king first. Always a king. Power mattered more to him than anything else.”

Azania reached out her hand as if she wanted to touch his face, but stopped halfway.

“You don’t understand everything,” she said quietly.

“And I don’t want to,” he answered.

He turned away from her.

“I will not save him.”

The dream began to fade slowly around him, the garden dissolving into mist, but her final words echoed clearly before everything went dark.

“You will regret it if you don’t.”

Varian woke up immediately, his eyes opening sharply in the darkness of his room, his breathing steady but his thoughts disturbed in a way he did not like.

He hated when his mind was not calm.

He pushed himself out of bed and without thinking too much, he made his way toward the lake near the academy grounds.

Swimming always cleared his mind.

The cold water usually helped him silence emotions he did not want to feel.

The moon reflected on the surface as he stepped in, the water rising slowly to his waist, then his chest, before he dove under completely, letting the cold surround him.

He swam back and forth across the lake, his movements strong and controlled, but no matter how long he stayed in the water, his mother’s voice would not leave his head.

Your father is dying.

You will regret it.

He surfaced again, water dripping down his face as he stared at the moon.

He cursed under his breath.

He did not want to care.

He had spent years building walls inside himself.

Years convincing himself that he did not need his father.

That he did not need a king who had chosen power over family.

But something was wrong.

He could feel it now.

The connection between blood did not disappear just because he wished it to.

Without allowing himself more time to think, Varian stepped out of the lake, grabbed his clothes, and within minutes he was moving faster than the wind toward the palace.

The guards did not see him.

The shadows obeyed him.

He entered the palace quietly, his presence like a silent storm, and made his way toward the king’s chamber.

The doors were slightly open.

That alone was unusual.

Varian pushed them fully open and stepped inside.

The smell hit him first.

Wine.

And something else.

Something bitter.

King Vyrian was lying on the ground beside his bed.

Not moving.

His skin looked pale.

Too pale.

His breathing shallow.

Varian’s heart skipped once, just once, before his face returned to its usual calm expression.

He walked over and knelt beside him.

“Father,” he called flatly.

No response.

He placed two fingers near his neck.

A weak pulse.

Very weak.

Poison.

Varian’s eyes darkened immediately.

Without hesitation, he lifted his father’s body into his arms.

The king felt lighter than he remembered.

Weaker.

For a brief second, Varian saw not a king, but a tired man.

He pushed that thought away quickly.

Within moments, he was gone from the palace, carrying Vyrian through the night toward the hidden cottage deep in the forest.

The small cottage stood quietly under the trees, a faint candlelight glowing inside.

Varian knocked once before entering.

Azania was already standing near the doorway.

“I know,” she said softly before he could speak.

He stepped inside and laid the king carefully on the small bed.

Azania moved immediately, her hands hovering over Vyrian’s body, her blind eyes focused though they could not see.

She placed her fingers lightly against his chest, then his forehead.

Her breathing changed slightly.

“Poison,” she said.

“I know,” Varian replied.

She began preparing herbs quickly, her movements practiced and steady, even without sight.

Varian stood there watching her.

Watching how her hands trembled slightly as she worked.

Watching how her calm voice carried hidden fear.

“How did you know?” he asked finally.

She did not stop working.

“I dreamed about him,” she said quietly. “I saw him collapsing.”

Varian let out a short breath.

“So you visit my dreams to save him.”

“I visited your dream because you were the only one who could reach him in time.”

She began grinding herbs and mixing them with water.

“You still care about him,” Varian said suddenly, his tone colder now.

Azania paused only for a second before continuing.

“He is the father of my son.”

“He betrayed you,” Varian said. “He chose politics. He chose power. He let you leave.”

Azania’s hands slowed.

“You are too young to understand everything that happened,” she said gently.

“I understand enough,” Varian replied.

She finally turned her face slightly toward him.

“You think love is simple,” she said. “You think it disappears when someone makes mistakes.”

Varian said nothing.

“You will understand one day,” she continued softly. “When you love someone deeply, you do not stop caring just because they fail you.”

He thought of Elara for a brief second.

He pushed the thought away instantly.

“I am not like him,” Varian said.

Azania smiled faintly.

“No,” she said. “You are not.”

She lifted Vyrian’s head gently and poured the herbal mixture slowly into his mouth, careful not to spill.

“Help me lift him,” she said.

Varian stepped forward and supported his father while Azania pressed her palm lightly against his chest, whispering something under her breath, her power flowing quietly through her hands.

Minutes passed in silence.

The only sound was the crackling of the small fire and the uneven breathing of the king.

Varian watched his mother closely.

Even blind, she moved with certainty.

Even after everything, she stayed.

She remained by his side.

“You should rest,” Varian said finally.

“I will not leave him,” she replied calmly.

Varian stared at her for a moment longer.

“You are stronger than he deserved,” he said.

Azania smiled faintly again.

“Strength is not measured by anger, my son.”

He had no answer to that.

Without another word, Varian turned and walked toward the door.

“Varian,” she called softly before he left.

He stopped but did not turn.

“Thank you.”

He remained silent for a second, then stepped outside into the night.

Inside the cottage, Azania stayed beside Vyrian, her hand resting gently over his, her blind eyes filled with quiet worry as she continued treating him, whispering soft words only he could hear.
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