Essence Link System: The Healer's Awakening-Chapter 18: Chains of Dawnmere

Chapter Title: "Whispers of Departure"

The morning sun spilled gently into the room, casting golden light over soft fabrics and tangled blankets. The silence was comforting, warm, broken only by the low hum of distant wind brushing against the curtains. In the quiet stillness of this brief peace, Caelen lay half-awake, his silver hair tousled across the pillow, his bare chest rising and falling with a slow breath. Reina was beside him, curled against his side, the warmth between them lingering even as morning crept in.

The door creaked open softly.

Veralia stepped inside, her long cloak flowing behind her like a shadow, and her eyes landed on the bed. Her voice came out light, composed, but her face instantly turned red.

"Good morning."

Caelen opened his eyes slowly, blinking at the light. Reina stirred, stretched lazily, and stood—completely unclothed. With effortless grace, she leaned over and kissed Caelen’s lips.

"Morning," she whispered, not even glancing at Veralia as she walked off to the bathroom.

Veralia stood frozen, trying to act like she wasn’t flustered, but her cheeks betrayed her. She moved silently toward the window to distract herself, drawing the curtains back and letting the sunlight bathe the room in amber.

Caelen sat up, still nude, and walked toward her. Veralia, still flustered, didn’t flinch. She simply adjusted the bed covers in silence.

Caelen reached out, gently wrapping his arms around her from behind. "You’re quiet this morning," he whispered into her ear. "Is something wrong?"

"I’ll bring your clothes... so you can change," Veralia replied quickly, her voice just above a whisper.

Caelen caught her hand before she could move. He gently pulled her toward him. She stumbled slightly, landing softly against his chest.

"Are you... jealous of what you saw?" he asked playfully, tilting her chin upward.

"What? Me? Jealous?" she stammered, cheeks turning crimson. She averted her gaze, refusing to meet his eyes.

"You’re my first woman," Caelen said softly, "no matter the circumstance. Don’t forget that."

Her eyes shimmered slightly at his words. "First..." she echoed, as if trying to hold onto the word.

He kissed her forehead gently. "Now, let’s get ready. We’ve got a long journey ahead."

"Reina’s still bathing," Veralia said quietly.

"Then let’s go to yours," Caelen grinned.

"I already took mine."

Caelen smiled. "Then you’ll just have to take another." He tugged at the knot of her robe.

"W-Wait—Caelen—"

"Come on now. Don’t be shy," he teased, sweeping her into his arms like she weighed nothing.

"I can walk!" she said, giggling despite herself.

"But this way’s more comfortable, isn’t it?" Caelen chuckled as he carried her across the room.

She rested her head against his chest with a quiet smile.

"I guess it is."

He kicked the door open, stepping into the hallway, and said with a smirk,

"Let’s enjoy a warm bath before the cold world comes knocking."

And the door slammed shut behind them.

---

Later...

Outside, the sun had risen fully, casting its golden rays over the traveling gear stacked beside the door. Ryan, calm and focused, tied straps around the final bags. He tightened the buckles of his boots and rolled his shoulders. His wolf senses were already heightened.

Caelen emerged from the hallway, now fully dressed in his dark travel robes, the signature sigil glowing faintly on his chest. Reina followed behind, also robed and ready, her twin daggers hidden beneath her cloak. Veralia wore her signature witch hat, her staff strapped to her back. Her pink eyes flicked toward the distant castle towers.

Caelen noticed her pause.

He touched her shoulder gently. "Will you miss home?"

Veralia took a breath. "No," she said, turning to him with a smile. "I feel more at home when I’m with you."

Caelen nodded, a faint warmth in his eyes. "Then let’s begin."

They stepped out onto the path beyond the town walls. The sky was clear, the wind gentle, and the air felt charged—like fate was waiting.

Caelen pulled a detailed map from his coat and unrolled it.

"The Valeriandria Kingdom spans far," he said, kneeling to press the parchment against a stone. "It has five villages spread across its lands."

He pointed to several marked symbols.

"Dawnmere Village — South-East.

Ashbourne Ridge — West.

Veymoor Hollow — Far North.

Elmsreach Village — East.

Grimthorn Village — South."

Veralia looked at the map carefully. "Each village has its own chief, right? Someone like a king?"

Caelen nodded. "Correct. We’ve already been to Elmsreach. That was Ryan’s homeland. Its head was Mr. Ben."

Ryan’s eyes flicked down. Memories of Elsdrem’s cold forests flickered across his mind.

Reina crouched beside Caelen. "But these village chiefs... are they dangerous?"

Veralia nodded. "They say each one holds unique power. It’s why they were chosen."

Caelen smirked. "Mr. Ben didn’t seem all that powerful."

"That’s because he wasn’t chosen for strength or mana," Veralia replied. "He was chosen for his wisdom and leadership. That’s why Elmsreach was overrun by magical beasts—Frostfang wolves took over."

Caelen traced his finger toward the southern edge of the map. "Grimthorn Village is the closest to us now."

Veralia’s breath hitched. "That’s where you’re from, right?"

Reina tilted her head. "That saves us time. We can go there and rest—"

"No," Caelen interrupted sharply. "We’re being hunted. If we go there, they’ll come. I won’t put my village at risk. The Royal Guards will start their search from there."

Reina looked down. "You’re right... I didn’t think of that."

Ryan glanced at the map. "Then where do we go?"

"Dawnmere," Reina said, pointing to the south-east. "That’s the next closest."

Caelen folded the map. "Then we’re headed to Dawnmere Village."

Veralia looked uncertain. "We’ve never been there."

"That’s what makes it fun," Caelen replied with a grin. "A new land... new danger... new stories."

Reina smirked. "Tch. Then I better stay sharp. Who knows what’s waiting."

Caelen stepped forward, leading the path.

"Let’s move."

----

At the Royal Palace

The throne room of the Valeriandria Palace was cloaked in a suffocating silence. Tall pillars lined each side like looming judges, and between them, flickering braziers cast long shadows across the polished obsidian floor. At the far end of the chamber, Lord Arcturus sat high upon his throne — a jagged structure of blacksteel and crimson velvet that seemed to bleed darkness into the air.

His golden eyes, cold and sharp as razors, were fixed on the man kneeling before him.

Drevor.

Sweat slid down Drevor’s brow despite the freezing temperature in the room. His hands trembled, pressed tightly against the cold floor, while his back was soaked with dread. Around him, the guards said nothing. They didn’t have to. Arcturus’s aura alone choked the air — an invisible noose around Drevor’s throat.

"You have failed me," Arcturus’s voice echoed like thunder across the marble chamber. His tone didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. Power swelled behind every word, cracking the tiles beneath his throne with a soundless force.

Drevor flinched. "M-my lord, please... I—I was incompetent, yes, I admit it. That’s why we lost Lady Lyra." His voice cracked. "But give me one more chance! I can make this right! I swear, I will bring you his head. I can make you smile again!"

A heavy silence followed. Arcturus leaned forward, one leg lazily crossed over the other. His armored fingers tapped the side of his throne in slow, deliberate beats.

"Make me smile?" he repeated. His lips twitched, though it wasn’t a smile. More like a ghost of something darker.

"Then tell me," he said, rising from the throne. The very floor groaned under the weight of his power. "How do you plan to do that?"

Drevor’s breath hitched. "I know where Caelen is," he said quickly. "I’ve tracked his movements. If I’m granted the right resources — soldiers, scouts, and shadow operatives — I can bring him to you alive."

Arcturus descended the steps from the throne like a god surveying a mortal. His crimson cloak dragged behind him, burning faintly with arcane symbols. He walked in a slow circle around Drevor, voice low.

"Alive..." he murmured. "I assume you understand why?"

Drevor dared not look up. "Yes, my Lord. The system — you want to extract it."

"Good," Arcturus replied flatly. "Because if you bring me anything less... I’ll take your head and your soul. Slowly."

Drevor swallowed hard. "I swear, I won’t fail you again."

A long pause.

Arcturus stared at him for a moment that seemed to stretch eternity. Then he stepped back.

"Then so be it. You have your chance. Gather your men. Track him. Bring him to me alive. If not... you’ll beg for death."

Drevor remained bowed. "Yes, my Lord..."

But deep within, behind that trembling mask, his lips twitched into a smirk.

"Just you wait, Caelen. I’ll be the one to behead you."

---

Grimthorn Village — Caelen’s House

Warm sun soaked the quiet village, the skies above calm and clear. Birds chirped as if the world hadn’t changed — as if it hadn’t shifted the moment Caelen left.

In the backyard of a small, humble home, Iris stood by the wooden laundry lines, hanging clothes to dry. The scent of sun-soaked cloth filled the air, mingling with the soft rustle of trees nearby. She looked up, eyes squinting at the horizon as a soft breeze tousled her hair.

"I haven’t heard from Caelen for over a month now..." she muttered, folding a tunic. "I wonder how he’s doing."

She sighed. "He must be living his dream now. The hero he always wanted to be..."

Her hands moved in rhythm, but her eyes lingered on the sky — distant, quiet, filled with worry she wouldn’t voice.

---

Somewhere in the Kingdom freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

Boots crunched against gravel as Caelen led the way down an overgrown path flanked by jagged rocks and thick, twisted trees. The sun had risen high, burning away the mist, but the shadows clung stubbornly to the forest walls.

Behind him trailed Reina, cloaked and sharp-eyed. Veralia, in her witch’s hat, followed closely, her gaze sweeping the land with caution. And bringing up the rear was Ryan, silent, eyes cold, hand twitching toward the hilt of his concealed blade.

Their journey had been long, the map in Caelen’s hand worn and creased. They had crossed rivers, hills, and silent, broken villages. The Valeriandria Kingdom sprawled endlessly, and they were now nearing the border of the unknown.

Finally, they came upon a towering black gate — metal twisted with ancient designs, moss crawling along its base.

Caelen raised a hand, signaling a stop.

"This is it," he said quietly. "The border of Dawnmere Village."

Ryan stepped forward, sizing up the gate with a scowl.

"Should I break it down, my Lord?" His voice was calm, but there was anticipation in his stance — his muscles tensed like a wolf ready to strike.

Caelen studied the structure, then glanced at the map. His golden eyes narrowed.

"No," he said. "There’s no need."

Reina approached, brushing her gloved fingers across the metal. "It’s strange," she said. "No guards. No wards. Nothing."

Veralia stepped closer to inspect—

SNAP!

Before they could react, ropes fired from hidden glyphs beneath the ground, and in an instant—

WHOOSH!

They were all yanked upward into the air, bound in glowing blue netting suspended between spiked wooden poles. The net was layered in sigils that flared with runic light, freezing their limbs mid-motion.

"A New enemy has arrived".

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