Chapter 285
“Are you saying His Imperial Majesty is truly only asleep?”
“It’s not that simple, but there’s a possibility he could wake.”
Ysaris answered Temisian calmly, recalling the recent events.
Her time with the children had been brief—half spent soothing Mikael and Casillia, who’d whined about missing her, and half enjoying an extravagant lunch. After tucking the drowsy children in for naps, she’d quietly returned to Kazhan’s chamber with Duke Blake just moments ago.
When she relayed parts of her conversation with Lena, the reaction was exactly as expected. It mirrored her own initial disbelief.
“The Clan of Night and Absolute Hibernation… I’ve never heard those terms. It’s hard to believe. Ah, don’t misunderstand—I’m not suggesting the Sage’s master would lie. But His Majesty’s condition is so corpse-like…”
“I understand. It still doesn’t feel real to me either—how could it for you?”
Ysaris followed Temisian’s gaze to Kazhan. His tranquil face pooled in the duke’s blue eyes.
“But we must believe. It’s our only hope left.”
“Quite right. This means we could announce that His Majesty hasn’t passed but fallen gravely ill—framed as a curse-induced coma. Given his state leans more toward a corpse than sleep, having Lady Lena as a witness would help, though…”
“Perhaps the Sage would be better. Lena despises political entanglements. She did break into the palace, after all.”
“Speaking of which, the palace’s anti-magic barrier needs reinforcement—”
“Tennilath blood could also neutralize the barrier—”
Their habit of rapid-fire discussions, honed through shared imperial duties, briefly derailed the conversation before circling back.
“…Regardless, His Majesty must wake eventually.”
“I don’t know what we can do. If Absolute Hibernation severs all senses, is there even a way to force him awake?”
Ysaris’s skeptical tone betrayed her frustration. She didn’t expect Blake to have answers, but the words spilled out like a sigh.
“Ordinary magic can’t affect the mind directly. Dark magic’s remnants were eradicated years ago. The curse mention made me wonder—should we seek a shaman from the Eastern Continent? Though I doubt they’d perform miracles instead of harm…”
“Your Majesty, do you recall…?”
Temisian interrupted with an odd expression, too focused on his sudden epiphany to notice the breach of decorum.
“That crystal orb from the capital’s streets years ago. The Sage’s Eye.”
“Yes, I remember. The artifact that shows what the user desires to know… Ah.”
A short gasp escaped her. Ysaris stared at Temisian, struck by realization.
“That’s a magic that interacts with the mind!”
“Just as I thought! The word ‘shaman’ reminded me of the orb. Ha!”
Temisian stroked his short beard, smug as a preening cat. Ysaris eyed him warily.
“If we find its creator, they might help. But how? We only saw it once years ago. Can it be traced?”
“I know who made it. The Sage.”
“Of course—‘Sage’s Eye’… You investigated back then? Typical Duke Blake.”
“Well, I’ve my connections. Ha… ha.”
Temisian laughed awkwardly. He’d never admit he’d scoured the empire to track her during her faked death—and learned this by accident.
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