Essence Link System: The Healer's Awakening-Chapter 22: The Cage That Holds Dawnmere

The spears dug closer into Caelen’s neck, their steel tips cold and trembling. The weight of tension crackled through the air like lightning about to strike. Reina and Veralia stood behind him, hands raised, cautious but unflinching. Ryan’s fingers twitched near the hilt of his dagger, his body ready to move if Caelen even blinked the wrong way.

The guards surrounded them like wolves around prey, their boots scraping against the cobblestone, eyes trained and nervous. One guard stepped forward, his voice sharp, commanding.

"Who are you? State your business."

Caelen slowly looked up, his crimson eyes calm. His voice was soft, almost bored.

"We mean no harm."

The guard didn’t lower his weapon. "I said speak."

Caelen tilted his head slightly, glancing around the estate. The air here was different — tighter, colder. The guard’s armor wasn’t ornamental. Their blades had tasted blood.

He spoke again, slower this time. "I’m just a simple alchemist. These are my family. We were planning to leave the kingdom. Just passing through. But... things changed."

He paused. "We were given shelter in the village. We noticed the deaths. The fear. And so... we came here. Hoping to speak with the village head."

"No one sees the village head without direct summons," the guard barked. "Turn back now — or regret it."

Caelen sighed deeply.

He closed his eyes.

And when they opened, they weren’t the same.

His pupils thinned, a sharp ring of violet circling the red. His aura leaked — slow at first, like mist crawling up from the underworld. The ground under him shimmered faintly with mana, enough to make the guards grip their weapons harder.

"This isn’t a job for Caelen anymore..." he muttered, voice chilling, "This is a job for the devil."

The guards flinched, their formation slightly breaking. Even Reina and Veralia looked at each other nervously. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my lord," Veralia warned quietly, her tone worried.

Reina’s hand slowly touched Veralia’s.

"No," she said, lips curling into a smile. "Let the devil cook."

Ryan narrowed his eyes. "He’s planning something. I can feel it."

Caelen didn’t move. He didn’t raise his voice. But the words he said next sank like poison into the hearts of the guards.

"Ah... So even after the two deaths this morning... you’re still choosing to keep the truth buried. I see."

The leader stepped forward. "What did you just say?"

"You better stop talking, stranger," another added. "Unless you want to be arrested for slander."

Caelen ignored them.

"It’s clever, really," he said, tone flat. "Keep travelers like us out. Keep the people calm. Keep the head safe."

"But," he continued, "What happens when the people begin to question... why the only ones who show up to help are turned away? What happens when they ask why the bodies keep appearing, but the guards are always late to arrive? Or why the village head hasn’t visited in months?"

A guard swallowed hard, the sound loud in the silence.

Caelen’s eyes glowed more intensely now, like crimson embers behind shadowed lashes.

"Maybe they’ll think the head is hiding something."

The guard captain’s face twitched.

"Or maybe they’ll blame you. After all, who’s in charge of guarding the people? Who keeps letting them die?"

Sweat rolled down one guard’s cheek. His grip on the spear loosened.

Caelen leaned forward, still kneeling, still surrounded, but towering in presence.

"I mean, none of you have died, right?" he asked, mock-innocent. "But villagers keep getting butchered. Over and over. Strange, isn’t it?"

The silence shattered like glass.

"That’s not true!" a guard barked. "We protect this place with our lives!"

"And yet," Caelen said coldly, "your lives are the only ones left untouched."

Another guard looked at his captain. "Sir... maybe we should—"

"Shut up," the captain snapped.

But Caelen wasn’t done. His voice was a whisper now, but it carried like thunder.

"But Caelen wasn’t done. His voice was a whisper now, but it carried like thunder."

"But you’re right... you do protect this place," he said, smiling slightly. "You protect it so well that no one questions why the deaths are covered up. Or why the bodies are too mutilated to be identified. Or why the ’drunk brawls’ always end in torn limbs and vanished hearts."

A low gasp escaped one of the guards.

Caelen’s smile dropped.

His gaze turned sharp, slicing into their nerves.

"But how long can that lie survive? A week? A month? Until the next child disappears? Will you pin that on alcohol too?"

"No more," one of the guards muttered, stepping back slightly.

Caelen kept going, voice now soft and eerie, like a lullaby sung in a graveyard.

"If word gets out that you turned away someone who might’ve helped... someone who knew... what happens to you then?"

He chuckled darkly.

"I wonder... will they say the village head gave the order? Or will you be painted as the villains who silenced help? Will they parade you through the streets before they hang you? Or will they just burn you in the village square while the head gives a noble speech to mourn your sacrifice?"

"Stop it!" one of the guards yelled, eyes wide with panic. "You don’t know what you’re saying!"

"I know exactly what I’m saying," Caelen replied. "And so do you. You’re just hoping the others don’t."

He stood up slowly, the aura around him cracking the stone beneath his feet ever so slightly. A faint ripple of power — silent and invisible to the untrained eye — made even Ryan shiver.

Veralia, still holding Reina’s hand, whispered, "He’s not bluffing. They’re breaking."

The guard captain barked, "Don’t listen to him! Don’t falter!"

But his voice didn’t carry the same strength anymore.

Caelen turned his gaze directly to the captain, his pupils glowing deep red like dying stars.

"Then by all means," Caelen said. "Follow your orders. Turn us away. Let the village keep bleeding. And when the next body drops — pray that it’s not someone you care about."

Silence.

No one moved.

Then Caelen’s voice shifted — calm, cold, commanding.

"Of course... you can’t let us in. That would break protocol, right? That would make you traitors."

He took a step forward, slow and deliberate. The guards didn’t raise their weapons.

"But you can deliver a message. Just a single sentence. That’s not against the rules, is it?"

The guards glanced at each other, unsure.

Caelen locked eyes with the youngest one — the one sweating the most.

"You," he said. "Come here."

The guard hesitated, looking to the captain for guidance.

"Go," the captain said, defeated. "Just... go."

The young guard stepped forward.

Caelen leaned in and whispered in his ear.

Whatever he said made the guard’s eyes widen in shock.

He stepped back slowly, turned, and ran into the building without saying a word.

Ryan leaned toward Caelen. "What did you tell him?"

Caelen didn’t answer.

Instead, he walked toward the center of the path, sat down cross-legged, and closed his eyes like he was meditating. His aura retracted instantly. He looked as harmless as a monk.

A few tense minutes passed.

No one dared speak.

Then, the doors creaked open.

The young guard returned, panting slightly, his voice shaky.

"The Village Head says... let them in."

Reina blinked.

Veralia’s jaw dropped.

Ryan’s brows shot up. "He actually did it..."

Caelen opened his eyes, a soft smirk tugging his lips.

"Thank you," he said to the guards. "You’ve done the right thing."

The guards — now visibly unsettled — quickly stepped aside. The heavy iron gate swung open, revealing a wide, shadowed pathway leading deeper into the estate.

The tension lifted, but something heavier remained.

As they walked forward, Veralia leaned closer and whispered, "What did you say to that guard?"

Caelen looked ahead, not breaking stride.

"I told him," he said, "that if the village head didn’t let us in... he’d be the next corpse to show up in the square."

Veralia’s eyes widened. "You threatened him?"

"No," Caelen said, voice dead calm. "I promised him."

Reina grinned behind him. "You’re scary when you’re smart."

Ryan chuckled faintly. "And smart when you’re scary."

As they crossed through the gate and the iron bars closed behind them, the air shifted.

The courtyard wasn’t luxurious — it was structured. Cold stone paths lined with perfectly trimmed shrubs, every corner calculated, every tree trimmed like soldiers standing still. The place wasn’t made to impress... it was made to control.

Guards lingered high above, half-hidden in the shadows, eyes sharp and motionless. This wasn’t a welcome — it was surveillance.

Ahead stood the manor — tall, wide, and built from dark stone. Ivy strangled the outer walls, creeping over old runes that still faintly pulsed with forgotten mana. There were no decorations, no sigils of wealth, no banners of pride.

Just a building that looked like it had stood through storms and silence.

Reina stepped lightly. "Doesn’t feel like a palace..."

Caelen kept walking, eyes forward.

"That’s because it’s not," he said.

"It’s the cage that holds Dawnmere’s secrets."

The massive oak doors creaked open without a knock. A thin man with grey hair and robes waited inside, head bowed.

"I am Alfred," he said calmly. "Follow me."

Inside was no better. No chandeliers. No silk. Just stone. Cold, quiet, endless stone. Mana lamps flickered above like dying stars, casting long shadows. On the walls hung faded tapestries — not of glory, but of survival. Battles, blood, old harvests.

They passed through a wild indoor garden, overgrown and untouched, as if nature had claimed this place as its own refuge. A spring rested at the center, still and dark.

Ryan looked around. "This place... it’s watching us."

"It’s not a palace," Veralia muttered. "It’s a graveyard with windows."

Up a long stairway and past a corridor carved with ancient markings, they reached a tall door glowing faintly with runes. Alfred stepped aside.

"The Village Head awaits."

The door opened.

Inside sat the man — the Village Head — alone, in a throne built from darkwood and silence. The room was stone, bare, with scrolls and blades on the walls. His armor was plain. His eyes unreadable.

He did not rise.

He did not speak.

Caelen stepped forward, calm, composed, yet eyes sharp with knowledge.

He bowed slightly, lips curling into a soft smile.

"Nice meeting you, my lord."

Th𝗲 most uptodate novels are published on free(w)ebnov(e)l.𝒄𝒐𝙢