In the room, Druven remained tense, his body rigid and trembling, harsh grunts tearing from his throat as if each one carried the weight of his struggle.

"Druven…" Rhavri's voice cracked as she lurched forward, her hands pressing against his shoulders in silent panic. Her breath came quick and shallow, heart hammering in her chest as his screams still tore from him, unrelenting.

She turned toward Elyrra, desperation thick in her tone, "What's happening to him? What's going on?"

Elyrra's brows knit, her staff glowing faintly as she stepped closer before placing her hand on Druven's chest.

"I… I do not know," she admitted after a few seconds, her voice taut with uncertainty, "I've never seen this reaction to my healing before."

Rhavri spun back, her heart tearing at the sight of Druven writhing, 'Even Lady Elyrra has no idea what's going on…'

Without thinking, she threw her arms around him, pulling him against her chest despite the violent tremors shaking his body.

To her shock, his cries softened just slightly, his body still tense but no longer thrashing with the same fury.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered over and over, rocking him gently, tears spilling freely down her face, "I'm here, Druven. You're safe. Nothing's gonna happen to you."

Slowly, painfully, the tension began to ease from his body.

The storm of his screaming ebbed into ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling with uneven rhythm as his limbs slackened, leaving him trembling but calmer in her arms.

Elyrra watched with intent curiosity, her sharp eyes following every twitch and tremor, for she had never seen a reaction like this before.

"Fascinating… and troubling," she murmured softly, unable to keep her thoughts contained.

Just then, Druven's eyelids fluttered slightly, just barely opening. The world came slowly, piece by piece, as if filtered through a haze.

"Ugh…" he groaned as he tried to move, his lips trembling with the effort. A weak sound escaped, more a whisper of pain than a word, but it was the first sign of his return to the waking world.

At first there was only blur: shadows that seemed like looming figures circling him, light that stabbed at his eyes like spears and forced him to squint. He blinked once, then again, each motion heavy, as though he were dragging himself out of mire. His breath rasped, his chest tight, the air thick with the mingled scent of herbs and moss that reached him before sight or sound could anchor him.

And yet, beyond it all, other sounds clung stubbornly—the faint echo of screeches, the phantom thunder of wings. They lingered in his head like unwelcome guests, reminders of the Nest that refused to let him go.

"Druven… Druven, it's me," Rhavri whispered, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes.

She clasped his hand tightly, knuckles white with desperation, as if letting go might make him vanish again, "You're here. You're safe."

He struggled to swallow, his throat raw, his lips parting soundlessly before a weak groan escaped. His chest burned with every breath, but his gaze turned toward her.

In that fragile moment his heart clenched—seeing Rhavri's face full of worry, the trembling in her hands, the fierce desperation in her eyes.

'She's been here all along…' he thought, a surge of gratitude and guilt washing over him. Fear, relief, and shame twisted together, he managed to rasp out words, broken but audible, "Rhavri… it's really you."

His lips quivered into the faintest of smiles as he greeted her, the sound fragile yet filled with relief—before a violent cough tore through his chest, wracking his whole frame and breaking the moment with raw weakness.

Elyrra stepped closer then, her tone steady though her eyes betrayed a flicker of worry, "Do not push yourself. Your spirit and body are fragile still. Rest, breathe. Let the healing root itself before you force strength into broken ground."

At her words, Druven turned his head weakly toward her, shock flickering across his face. He forced his throat to work, and though the sound was raw and broken, he managed to greet her, "Lady Elyrra…"

"Hello, Druven," she said simply, her tone polite and warm as she let out a small smile.

Druven coughed again, wincing, but managed to shape his words, "Why… why are you here?"

"Druven…" Rhavri spoke, catching his attention, "It was her that healed you. You should be thanking her."

"It's no matter," a small smile curved Elyrra's lips as she waved off Rhavri's words before turning to Druven.

"Am I forbidden from stepping into this place?" she teased gently,

Druven shook his head faintly, insisting despite his weakness, "Someone like you… you would not come to the Glade for no reason."

Her smile faded into something more solemn, "You're right. Tholn came to me himself. He asked me to heal you."

At the mention of the name, Druven's eyes softened.

A faint smile touched his lips as he whispered, "Tholn… always thinking ahead. I owe him more than I can ever repay."

He closed his eyes briefly, whispering his thanks in silence before reopening them, "Tell me… how long was I under? What happened?"

But before he could ask further, Elyrra raised her hand. Her gaze sharpened, fixing on him, "Not yet. First—you must tell me what you saw in the Nest. Every detail matters. I want to hear what you saw."

Druven's eyes widened, fear flickering as his voice broke into a hoarse whisper, "How… how do you already know about the Nest?"

At its mention, his breath quickened, panic edging into his tone as if the thought alone terrified him.

Rhavri, noticing his distress, quickly leaned closer, her words flowing in a rush meant to steady him.

"Kalren carried you on his back the entire way to the Glade," she said softly, her voice carrying both pride and sorrow, "You were barely breathing, and he refused to stop even once until he reached safety. When he arrived, he told Tholn everything he had seen. My brother didn't waste a moment. He and Ash left at first light and went straight to Elyrra and told her about the nest. That is why she came, Druven—because Tholn asked, and because your life was too important to leave to chance."

Druven nodded faintly, taking a few shaky breaths before forcing himself to begin. His breath caught, his body tensed, trembling as the memories surged back.

"I saw…" His voice faltered, and his fingers twitched as if reaching for something, "Endless tunnels. They stretched forever. And the beetles… gods, there were so many. Their legs… their eyes. I could hear them scraping in my skull."

Elyrra leaned in slightly, her voice sharp but curious, "How many did you see? Do you know if they were gathering?"

His chest shook as he forced the words out, "I don't know but I am sure there could number at least a thousand…"

At the mention of a thousand, Rhavri's breath hitched, her face draining of color. That was countless times greater than the beast tide that had nearly destroyed the Glade—an impossible number that made her heart pound with dread.

Elyrra, however, reacted differently; her eyes narrowed, not from the memory of battle but from something else entirely, and for a moment her silence was heavier than words.

Druven continued along with his account, his voice trembling as he forced the memory out, "Then there was a roar. It shook the walls themselves. And then—then a voice followed. Not outside. Inside. It spoke to me as if it knew me. As if it had been waiting."

Rhavri's grip on his hand tightened, her face paling at his words.

"A voice?" she whispered, fear trembling in her tone.

Elyrra leaned closer still, her face furrowed in worry and worried intrigue, "What did it say, Druven? Did it command the beetles?"

Her questions weighed on him, dragging the memory deeper. Druven's breathing shook, and he stumbled over his next words. "I… I don't know what it was. Only that it spoke to me as if I belonged to it."

Just then, the questions and the expressions that were plastered on Elyrra's face seemed to click something in his head, with a weak rasp, he forced out, "Where… where is Tholn? What's happening now?"

Elyrra and Rhavri exchanged a brief glance, Rhavri's eyes also asking the same question, before Elyrra answered solemnly, "As soon as they reported this. They asked to have a party formed to investigate and I allowed it. Tholn and Ash are among them and they are already on their way to enter the Nest."

The words struck Druven like a blow. His eyes widened, panic surging through him as his mind replayed the endless tunnels, the deafening roar, the voice that had clawed into his soul.

"No… they can't… they don't know what's waiting," he gasped, trying to push himself up. His arms shook violently, refusing to hold his weight, and he collapsed back against the bedding.

Broken words spilled from him between ragged breaths, "The tunnels… the horde… they'll be slaughtered…"

Rhavri immediately pressed her hands against his shoulders, her voice firm but pleading. "Stop, Druven! You're too weak—you'll tear yourself apart." Tears brimmed in her eyes as she tried to hold him down.

Elyrra stepped closer, one hand raised, her tone calm but commanding. "Breathe. Do not waste your strength. We will find a way to warn them, but if you fall again now, you will be of no use to anyone."

"They are facing thousands!" Druven shouted.

His chest heaved as panic wracked him, his body trembling against their hold. The memories of the Nest clawed at him, suffocating him, yet he was powerless to act.

Slowly, under their restraint and their voices urging him to calm, his thrashing eased.

But the dread remained etched into his face, and the chapter closes with him whispering in despair, "They don't understand… they're walking into death."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.