Bound by Fate

Chapter 52: The Shattered Heart

Lunara stepped outside the cottage, her legs barely holding her weight. Her body was battered and bruised, covered in sweat and hickeys from the brutal night she had endured. She was running on fumes, her energy nearly depleted, but the chanting of witches in the distance roused something deep within her. These were the remnants of the forces trying to invade, the enemy that had torn apart her world. She couldn't let them win.

With a grimace, Lunara raised her hand, summoning what little power she had left. The air around her crackled with electricity as she approached the gathering witches. In one swift motion, she unleashed a surge of magic that tore through them like a storm, their screams filling the night before they were silenced forever. The village was safe for now, but Lunara could barely stand. Her body shook as she staggered toward the nearby village, each step agonizing, her legs threatening to give out beneath her.

As she reached the village border, her vision blurred, and her knees buckled. She collapsed to the ground, her body finally giving up. The world went dark.

A young couple was walking along the village's outskirts when they spotted the faint figure lying just past the border. The woman gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she hurried over, her husband following closely behind.

"It's a man..." she whispered, kneeling down beside Lunara's unconscious body. Her eyes widened in horror as she took in the state he was in-his face and body were covered in bruises, hickeys, and scrapes, his skin clammy with sweat. His clothes were torn, and his chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths.

"Poor thing," the woman murmured, her voice thick with sadness. "He's been through something terrible." She looked up at her husband, her eyes pleading. "We have to help him."

Her husband nodded, already bending down to lift Lunara into his arms. "Let's get him back to the hut," he said quietly, his voice filled with concern. "He needs rest and care."

Together, they carried him back to their small home, laying him gently on their bed. The woman fetched a damp cloth, gently wiping the sweat from his forehead, her heart aching for this stranger who had clearly been through so much. She sat by his side, waiting for him to regain consciousness, hoping that when he did, he would find some peace in their care.

Meanwhile, back at the palace, Namjoon had collapsed on the floor of his chambers, his body limp, and bruises visible around his neck. The palace had been in chaos for days, ever since the kingdom had been invaded by the neighboring army. No one had seen Namjoon since, and the search for him had grown desperate.

When the palace soldiers finally found him in his room, they were relieved but also deeply concerned. Namjoon's mother was the first to hear the news, and she ran to his room, her heart pounding in her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes as she reached his door, only to find Namjoon lying on the floor, unconscious.

"Namjoon!" she cried, rushing to his side, her hands trembling as she knelt beside him. She gently lifted his head, cradling him in her arms as she checked for injuries. The bruises around his neck told her everything she needed to know. He had gone through another rut, and something terrible had happened.

"Call for help!" she screamed, her voice filled with panic as she stroked her son's face, trying to wake him. "Someone, please, help him!"

Within moments, the room filled with palace servants and guards, all rushing to assist. Namjoon's father and grandparents arrived shortly after, their faces pale with worry. Namjoon's grandmother, the matriarch of the family, surveyed the scene with grim understanding.

"Take him to the rut chamber," she commanded, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "We need to make sure he's safe while he goes through this. Wake him if you can."