Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 249. Hanged II
King Gervis's feet propelled him with a sense of urgency he had never felt before. Panic and dread coursed through his veins like poison, his heart pounding a desperate rhythm. He reached the doorway of Ilex's room and, for a fleeting moment, hope battled with despair.
Then, as if the world had frozen, he halted in his tracks.
His eyes widened in shock, and his breath caught in his throat. There, in the dimly lit room, hung the nightmare that had become his reality. It was Ilex, his beloved son, suspended in a macabre tableau.
The sight before him was a haunting, chilling image that would forever be etched into his memory. Ilex's lifeless form swayed gently, caught in the cold embrace of death. His eyes were open but empty, devoid of the spark of life. The once-vibrant face was now ashen, a stark contrast to the life that had once thrived within it.
The noose, cruel and unforgiving, held Ilex aloft. King Gervis could see the stark lines of it, stark against the pale skin. The room seemed to close in around him as he stared at the ghastly tableau, unable to tear his eyes away from the lifeless figure that was once his son.
Terror gripped his heart, and his voice, the voice of a king who had faced countless adversities, failed him in this moment of ultimate horror. King Gervis stood there, his mind a tumultuous sea of emotions. It was as if time had stopped, and he was trapped in a nightmarish limbo between reality and disbelief. The shock of the sight before him had stolen his words, leaving him momentarily mute and paralyzed.
But as he gazed upon his son's lifeless body, a determination welled up within him. He couldn't let despair consume him, not now. With a profound effort, he found his voice, and it rang out with an authority that belied his inner turmoil.
"Put him down," he commanded, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him.
His words were like a spell breaking the dreadful silence that had gripped the room. Soldiers, who had been immobilized by the gruesome scene, snapped into action. With grim faces and a heavy sense of sorrow, they carefully lowered Ilex's body from the deadly noose.
The commotion in the corridor had not gone unnoticed by Ophelia. Startled from her sleep by the frantic voices and hurried footsteps, she quickly rose from her bed, heart pounding with fear. She hadn't slept well, worried about her brother and the events of the previous night.
As she hurried toward the commotion, her eyes widened with dread. There was a frantic urgency in the air, and the faces of the servants and guards were etched with shock and sorrow. Ophelia's steps faltered as she approached her father, King Gervis, who stood with an expression of profound shock and grief.
"Father," Ophelia said, her voice trembling with anxiety, "what's happened? What's going on?"
Before King Gervis could respond, Ophelia's gaze shifted, and she saw the soldiers slowly lowering a lifeless body from the horrific scene within Ilex's room. Her heart constricted with a terrible realization, and her breath caught in her throat.
"Ilex!" Ophelia cried out, her voice a mixture of disbelief and anguish. Without hesitation, she darted forward, past her father, and into the room. Her eyes locked onto her brother's still form, his face pallid, eyes vacant, and life extinguished.
Tears welled up in Ophelia's eyes as she reached out to touch him, her trembling hand brushing against his cold cheek. The sight was a nightmare come to life, a tragedy that defied all reason. Her mind struggled to process the horrifying reality before her.
"Brother," she whispered, her voice choking with sorrow. The room seemed to close in on her as grief enveloped her like a suffocating shroud. She couldn't comprehend how this had happened, why Ilex had been driven to such a desperate act.
Meanwhile, royal soldiers meticulously examined every corner of the room, searching for any clues or signs of foul play. They moved with precision and caution, taking care not to disturb the scene more than necessary.
Outside, the soldiers continued their meticulous search, examining the windows, the doors, and any possible means of entry or exit. They questioned the servants who had been nearby and those who had witnessed the grim discovery. Each piece of information was carefully logged, considered, and evaluated.
The doctor, with a grave expression etched across his face, knelt beside Ilex's lifeless body. He knew that every moment counted, even though the prince appeared beyond salvation. The doctor checked Ilex's pulse, his breathing, and the dilation of his pupils. The signs were clear, but he couldn't simply give up.
Gently, he lifted one of Ilex's cold wrists and checked for a pulse again, his fingers seeking any faint flicker of life. The room was hushed, save for the doctor's concentrated breathing and the faint rustling of soldiers investigating the chamber.
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