She turned around sharply.

  The magic circle.

  It was activating again.

  The air trembled, the familiar hum vibrating through the walls like a warning bell. Without thinking, Aira ran—straight toward the study.

  “Sir Kael!” she shouted.

  The moment she reached the doorway, she saw it.

  Sir Kael had already transformed.

  Power radiated from him, dense and overwhelming, filling the room until it felt difficult to breathe. His posture was steady, his expression cold and razor-sharp.

  He was ready to fight.

  And whatever was coming this time…

  It wasn’t something they could ignore.

  “Stay locked in your room,” he warned her.

  He made his way towards the hall.

  The monsters that spawned this time were weak. Instead of killing them, Sir Kael merely activated his divine light. The glow burned them, shrinking their forms until they vanished completely.

  Sir Kael was glad that it nothing major as his instincts whispered.

  'Everything has been taken care of then why? Why am I feeling so uneasy? Why have I not transformed back? Am I missing something?'

  He rushed through the manor, scanning every corridor.

  Something was wrong.

  Then he remembered Aira. Without any delay he made his way towards her room.

  “Aira!” he shouted. A dead silence fell.

  Before he could shout any more, a scream pierced through his ears.

  That sound alone was enough.

  His chest felt heavier. ' Why did I leave her all by herself?'

  He pushed the door but it didn't open. It was locked. Her groans in pain were becoming fainter.

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  With no choice left he charged in the room breaking the door.

  His gazes sharpened at a corner. She was lying there trembling like a leaf holding onto the branch.

  Her eyes were fixated on the other corner.

  Sir Kael couldn't move, It was no monster.

  He recognised it right away. That dark crimson skin cracked, dark aura slipping through it, such a beast size with a humane form, claws as sharp as if they are the swords itself.

  There is no mistaking it, it certainly was a 'Dravkin'.

  Its hands were bloodied—Aira’s blood—scraped raw from striking her as she tried to escape.

  Without any second thoughts, Sir Kael charged right onto to him from above.

  But before he could land a blow, the dravkin vanished into a dark circle beneath him, clutching its bloodied hands. The room fell silent, he was back to normal.

  Sir Kael caught Aira as she collapsed and carried her to his room. He began chanting the healing spell, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him.

  He stayed by her side.

  Minutes passed. Then hours.

  Unlike before, she did not wake.

  The healing was slow. Too slow.

  Again and again, he chanted the spell, refusing to rest. He guarded her room day and night, never leaving her side.

  At dawn, her eyes finally fluttered open.

  A gentle breeze slipped through the window, brushing against her hair like a lullaby.

  And for the first time since the attack, Sir Kael allowed himself to breathe.

  Aira slowly stirred awake.

  She sat up, pressing a hand to her chest as she tried to steady her breathing. For a moment, the world felt distant, hazy—until she noticed him.

  Sir Kael was leaning against the wall nearby, eyes closed, his silky hair falling loosely over his face. Dark shadows rested beneath his eyes, proof that he hadn’t slept.

  Her heart tightened.

  She rose quietly and stepped toward him. Reaching up, she gently brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes.

  His hand snapped out.

  He grabbed her wrist instinctively, his grip firm—too firm.

  “Sir Kael,” she hissed, struggling slightly. “It’s me.”

  The tension left him instantly. He loosened his grip and looked at her properly, relief flooding his expression.

  "How are you feeling now?" he gently held her hand.

  Trying to get out of his firm grip," T-thanks to your care I am feeling better then ever."

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “If only I was more careful,"

  Aira cut his words and holding onto his hands," It was inevitable Sir Kael. See now I am perfectly fine."

  Her heartbeat quickened as she stood so close to him, her face flushed from both lingering weakness and embarrassment. Sir Kael noticed immediately.

  Too flushed.

  He placed a hand against her forehead. It was warm.

  “She has a fever,” he muttered.

  He lifted her carefully and laid her back on the bed despite her weak protest.

  “S–Sir Kael, I’m fine—”

  “No,” he said firmly, worry breaking through his calm. “Your face is red. You’re burning up.”

  She slowly mumbled,' It's not fever'.

  He placed another healing spell on her, golden light washing over her body.

  The day of the Sword Masters’ meeting arrived sooner than he expected.

  Sir Kael sat at his desk, writing everything that had transpired—the magic circle, the monsters, and most importantly, the dravkin that had concealed itself long enough to ambush Aira.

  A calculated attack.

  A deliberate one.

  The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  When he finished, he set the quill down and stared at the page for a long moment. All that remained now was Aira’s side of the story—hers alone to tell.

  He exhaled slowly.

  To release the tension clawing at his chest, Sir Kael rose from his seat and summoned his sword. The familiar weight settled into his palm as he made his way toward the training hall.

  Steel rang through the air as he practiced alone.

  Each swing carried restrained anger.

  Each strike was a vow.

  Never again.