The warning Ysolde left behind made the atmosphere in the cave even more oppressive. The process of distributing supplies no longer held any relief. Instead, it was carried out with a grim, meticulous caution.
Clean water and dried rations were divided equally among everyone. Grace personally kept the box of healing tablets for emergencies.
They all ate in silence, chewing tasteless rations that felt like sawdust in their mouths. In the corner, the two most severely injured guards sat slumped against the stone wall, their faces ashen.
One had a chest wound from the shadow mist. Though bandaged, a grayish death energy continued spreading from the injury. His breathing came shallow and labored. It was apparent that he was on the brink of death.
The other had lost an arm. Though the bleeding had been stopped, the immense pain and blood loss left him delirious, and he occasionally let out incoherent groans.
Their pitiful state shook the rest of the survivors to their core, rattling their nerves and leaving them tense and on edge.
“Arvo… He probably won’t make it through the night,” a guard with a scar across his face muttered to the wiry man beside him.
His eyes flickered toward the meager pile of remaining supplies. Then, he shot a quick glance toward Dustin, who sat with eyes closed in meditation, and Grace, whose face was lined with worry.
The wiry man was called Slate Harrow. He served as the group’s scout and had always been sharp and known for valuing his own life above all else.
He swallowed the hard crumbs of flatbread in his mouth, his throat bobbing as he whispered in a barely audible voice. ” Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t make it. It
would be one less mouth to feed. Look at our situation, Tyson. The path ahead is clearly a death trap. If even Ysolde fell, what chance…”
He left the question hanging, but his eyes said it all. Tyson Zephran’s eyes darted nervously as he tightened his grip on the water pouch.
“Her Highness is desperate to save His Majesty, and we were ordered to protect her. This is our duty. But… But this is clearly a suicide mission. I’ve got a wife and kids waiting for me back home.”
“Who doesn’t?” another guard, who was missing half an ear, chimed in. “If I’d known this godforsaken place was this evil, I never would’ve accepted this mission. Now the way back is gone, and the road ahead is a deathtrap. With just this much to eat and drink, how long can we hold out?”
The complaints spread among the guards, whose resolve had already been shaky to begin with. Their gazes no longer held determination, only hesitation and despair for the future.
When their eyes occasionally swept over Grace and Dustin, the respect that had once been there was now mixed with faint but unmistakable resentment.
Grace wasn’t oblivious to the shifting mood. She walked over to Arvo, the critically injured and dying guard, and kneeled beside him. Carefully, she helped him take a few sips from her own water ration.
He swallowed with difficulty. His clouded eyes showed a flicker of gratitude, but it was drowned by a deeper, more profound longing for it all to be over.
“Hang in there. We’ll find a way out,” Grace said softly, though the words felt hollow even as she said them.
Arvo’s lips moved slightly like he wanted to say something, but only a faint rasp escaped his throat. His head lolled to the side, and he went completely still.
Another person had died right before their eyes. A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the group.
The one-armed guard watched his comrade breathe his last, his body trembling violently. Suddenly, he let out a hoarse, broken wail. “He’s dead! They’re all dead. We’re going to die too. All of us will die here!”
His mind had clearly collapsed. That single, agonized wail was the spark that finally ignited the tinderbox of fear and despair they had all been holding back.
Kyle Whitmore abruptly shot to his feet, his eyes bloodshot. “Shut your weeping!” he roared. “I don’t want to die here. I want to go home.”
He whirled toward Grace. Though he still maintained a thread of courtesy, his tone turned hostile.
“Your Highness! It’s not that we’re cowards, but the road ahead is a dead end. If even Ysolde couldn’t cross it, what chance do we have? Are we supposed to rely on Mr. Rhys? No matter how capable he is, can he protect all of us? Arvo is dead, and Cyprian is crippled. Who’s next? You or me?”
“Kyle! Watch your mouth!” Rhydian Alastair, the guard captain, barked. But his own face looked just as grim, and his reprimand came out weak and listless.
Grace rose to her feet, her beautiful features set in a mask of frost. Despite the crushing grief and pressure threatening to consume her, she knew she couldn’t afford to lose her composure at that moment.
“Mr. Whitmore, I understand how you feel, but things have come to this point. There’s no point in panicking or complaining. Mr. Rhys is thinking of a solution, and we-”
“Thinking of a solution? What solution?” Slate interrupted with a sinister tone. ”
Your Highness, it’s not that we’ve turned our backs on you. We just see no way to survive. It’s better we split the remaining supplies and take our chances alone than everyone dying here together.”
As he spoke, his eyes drifted toward the remaining water and rations piled in the corner.
“Are you all planning a mutiny?” Judith gasped in shock and fury, drawing her short sword and stepping in front of Grace
“Mutiny?” Tyson snorted coldly and stood up as well, his hand moving to his blade’s hilt. “We just want to live, Ms. Cross. Hand over the tablets and the remaining supplies. We’ll leave on our own. Whether we live or die after that is no longer Her Highness’ concern.”
In an instant, the tension inside the cavern became explosive.
A consensus had formed among five or six of the guards, led by Tyson, Slate, and Kyle. Rather than continue following Grace and the others to their deaths, they might as well seek another way out. At least that way, they’d have a chance at survival.
Grace looked at the men who had once been loyal, now twisted with desperation. Her heart turned to ice. She took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure.
“Right now, our only chance of getting through this is if we stick together. If we split up now, our chances of survival will be even lower,” she said.
“With all due respect, Your Highness, it’s following you that’s dangerous. How many have died for this futile quest for the so-called elixir of immortality? If we continue, we’ll all be added to the count,” Kyle retorted.
“He’s right. I’ve got an elderly mother to support and a wife and kids to feed. I don’t want to die in this god-forsaken place,” Tyson agreed.
“Your Highness, please have mercy and let us go,” Slate begged. The pleas from Kyle and his group came in a rush, any last shred of their fighting spirit utterly extinguished.
