Please, Your Majesty, Only you can end the tyranny of Captain Frank. He believes he's King of Whitepeak Mountain. X.

Sebastian was plodding through the endless sea of sand of dunes. He couldn't explain how or why he had travelled all these miles in a matter of minutes, but that was where he was. The cruel sun was beating him down, drenching him in sweat. No shade apart from the one provided by rocks too small to provide shelter.

"Seb? Sebby?"

The voice of Uncle Tom resounded in the back of his head, pulling him back to the safety of Sunstone Castle but the call of the Scorching Plains was stronger still.

He stumbled upon the thrashing body of the little girl he had failed so often before in his dreams. He crouched next to her and held her hand, ignoring the pungent smell of her burnt flesh. She was dying.

No matter what he did, there was no way of saving her. The thrashing stopped, the light in her eyes going out faster than a candle in a sudden downpour. He grabbed her by her dirt-stained shirt. No breath. No heartbeat. She was the only cold object in this blazing wasteland.

"Will you show yourselves now!" He screamed at the sky, demanding the Gods to answer him.

He got his answer in the form of a bright-red sky, the sun rapidly sinking beneath the horizon. The world turned and turned, a million stars showing all at once, then went out again.

Abby's remains stirred. The girl grew, her straight hair curling up and darkening. She had curves and bumps in places that had been flat before.

"Alex?" He tapped his hands on her body, seeking a heartbeat but finding none. Her eyes as dull as Abby's. "No, you can't be! You're alive! I saw you. You're not—"

A wave of dust engulfed Alex, an immense light blinding him. As he looked up again, a freckled boy with fiery red hair laid in the sand, a trickle of blood dripping from his lip.

"No, Fox." He pulled the boy in his arms, his body slumping like a dead weight against his chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to, but I needed to do this. You're a magician and a dangerous one, and I... I..."

"... became a murderer once more." Nick approached him, wearing a grey uniform with five silver sycamore leaves on the shoulder pad. He was riding on Billy. "First my sister, then Fox, and now you've condemned Alex too. How many more people must die before you learn?"

"But I'm trying! You don't know what it's like to be me." As his eyes filled with tears, he reached for a rock. "Leave if all you can do is criticise me. You wouldn't have been able to save Abby either!"

The rock soared through the air and landed on Billy's head. The horse let out a whiny neigh and staggered, Nick barely able to hold the reins.  As Billy landed back on four legs, Nick stared at him, an icy stare full of contempt. With a quick kick in the flank, the two galloped off into the faint sunrise; the dawn of a new day.

As the ghost of a horse and his friend disappeared, so did the body. In this vast field of emptiness and nothingness, Sebastian was left alone to repent for his sins. He gasped for air, but his lungs didn't work. The sand beneath him spiralled, sucking him down.

"No! Help!" He dug at the sand, but found no grip on the grains. His body tightened. "You can't let me die. I'm the Crown Prince."

A deep voice tickled his ear. Its owner was nowhere to be seen. "I'm right here, Sebby. It will all be fine."

"Father, is that you?"

"No, it's me."

Bright flashes appeared out of nowhere, bringing a tingling sensation that quickly spread from his fingers to his toes. His breathing was fast, in short puffs, like he was at the end of one of Master Paul's training sessions, but he wasn't outside. The typical white marble walls of Sunstone Castle greeted him. Even in a hazy blur, he recognised his toy soldier army grouped together in cohorts on the big map of The Greenlands in Uncle Tom's office.

"I've changed my mind." He clamped himself to Uncle Tom. "I don't want to kill Fox. And you have to stop Alex from leaving too. She can't. She'll die."

"Shht. I'll take care of Fox," Uncle Tom whispered. "And Alex... it's our Alex we're talking about, Sebby. Our quick, clever, crafty and strong Alex. No pirate will be able to kill her. She'll have the time of her life, saving thousands of extra lives in the process. Do you want to take that pleasure away from her?"

"No."

It all seemed so simple when Uncle Tom put it that way, yet it didn't help to calm his nerves. His nightmare hadn't been real, but he managed to recall the stiffness of her body without any problem. It chilled him yet made him sweat at the same time.

"Between you and me, I think the pirates are the real ones who should fear for their lives. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, but I'm gonna miss her."

Uncle Tom cupped his cheeks in the palm of his hands. He cocked his head, a cocky smile dangling from his lips. "Do you like her? Is that it?"

"She's my friend—of course I like her!"

"And more than a friend?"

Sebastian snorted, which combined with a sniff came out as an awkward hiccup. "You're insane, Uncle Tom."

"Oh, I think you do like her," he said teasingly. "Is that a blush I see there, Sebby?"

"No." Sebastian struggled away from him. He rested his back against a pillow, his arms crossed in front of him. "Kissing is yucky anyway."

"I thought so too when I was your age." Uncle Tom playfully patted his thigh. "It's actually quite nice."

"Too bad there won't be any kissing for you tonight, Uncle Tom. Not unless you make it up with Aunt Crystal."

"Yeah, yeah. Pick her side now."

The door handle moved and in stumbled Healer Mark, carrying a large metal box that from the old man's groaning was just as heavy as it looked. "I came as quickly as I heard, Your Majesty. No matter the years I've been on duty, the news of an unconscious Prince is always a bit of scare. I've mentally listed over a dozen potential poisons and brought everything I thought I would need."

"Thanks, Mark." Uncle Tom alternated his good ear between the Healer and him. "He seems a little better already—but I don't know what's wrong with him. He was kicking me and screaming at people who weren't there. It was terrifying to watch."

"It was terrifying for me too," Sebastian said as the Healer laid his hand on his forehead.

"Sweaty, not feverish. Good." Healer Mark pulled at his eyelids, his old glazy eyes meeting his. "Did you throw up, My Lord?"

"I was nauseous, but I don't know. It's all such a blur."

"He drooled a little," Uncle Tom said with a light chuckle, touching the spit stains on the breast pocket of his uniform. "Luckily, no vomit."

"Do you feel nauseous right now, My Lord?" Healer Mark asked.

Sebastian smacked his lips. His dinner was no longer threatening to come out, but there was still a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. "A little. Not a lot. My heart is beating super fast, sometimes it's like I can't get any air. And I dreamt of Abby dying, and then Alex, and Fox. Nick was there too. He was already my general. He said I'm a murderer and then the Scorching Plains wanted to kill me. Or maybe the Gods did. I don't know."

"Do you know of a poison that could cause this?" Uncle Tom asked.

"I've heard of some causing hallucinations, but this is quite something else. I doubt it's poison. General George informed me that Miss Alex will be leaving us for a while. I will find my new errand boy, but your nephew, Your Majesty—he requires stability."

"You know I can give him everything but that," Uncle Tom said. "A King should always be prepared, and a step ahead of everyone else."

Sebastian tugged at the Healer's robe. "If not poison, then why do I see things that aren't there? Am I losing my mind?"

Before the Healer could reply, Uncle Tom said, "Of course, you're not insane."

"Let me tell you something, My Lord." The Healer leant closer. "I think you're as nutty as my favourite cake, and that's alright. It's completely normal."

"I don't understand. You haven't examined me yet." Sebastian gestured at the metal box that stood next to the table.

"I've brought them all if you wanna see them. The metal tubes, the clamp, a new clyster. But I require none of those to know I'm talking to an emotionally scarred young lad who's frightened of what the future may bring, especially for his lady friend."

This time all blood did rush to his face. "So I guess there's no cure for that then."

"I'm not claiming that, My Lord. What you have seen in Laneby and on The Plains—it's more than what most adult men witness in their entire life. It leaves invisible scars in the mind. There were many cases such as yours over fifty years ago, after the last siege of Whitepeak. Plenty of army lads had witnessed their comrades dying in excruciating circumstances: torn off limbs, disembowelled guts everywhere, burns as deep as the bone. They survived, but their head couldn't cope with the images so their bodies took over, resulting in vivid nightmares, blackouts, and hysteria-like symptoms. Terrifying, both for the patient and his surroundings, but otherwise harmless."

"Not for his reputation," Uncle Tom argued. "Nobody can know of this. The last thing I want is Lords, Ladies, or hordes of commoners saying that he's incapable of ruling. It'll be bad for Seb's self-esteem. You and I both know that hesitant leaders make bad decisions and risk losing important allies. Silvermark is already knocking on our door—it's a matter of time before they attack. I need Seb to be ready and sane."

"There must be some kind of potion, Healer Mark," Sebastian insisted. His duties aside, he would give everything to never experience whatever disease he had again.

"It exists, but it's not for young lads such as yourself. The risk of addiction is too high." Healer Mark paused, rubbing his hand palms together. He turned to Uncle Tom. "Your Majesty, do you remember our conversation after I treated Lord Sebastian all those moons ago, when he had just arrived in this city. The advice I gave you to help him deal with his immense losses?"

"Give him closure, yes," Uncle Tom said. "There was a ceremony."

"To present Lord Sebastian as your heir, yet you did nothing to help him say goodbye to his family and friends."

He waved the Healer's comment away. "Apart from Nick's sister, there were no bodies. I kept Seb from the funeral because I didn't want the officers to see him in such a fragile state."

Sebastian remembered staring out the window in his uncle's parlour as Abby's body was lowered to the ground, and Nick planted forty-nine sunflower seeds in her eternal bed. He hadn't been there for his friend; a mistake. In all those moons, he and Nick had avoided the topic of Abby if they could. In fact, they had mostly avoided each other too.

"Can I see Alex off? Ride with her all the way to the Port of Diligence?" He suggested.

"Forget it. That won't happen," Uncle Tom said quickly.

Sebastian stomped his foot. He was so sick of Uncle Tom keeping him locked in the castle. "But—"

"No!"

"Pardon my boldness, Your Majesty, but I'm not necessarily against it. It would give him some sort of closure, reduce the nightmares and anxiety. Besides, I recall seeing a younger version of yourself, teaming up with his brother to fight for a day away from the castle. Surely, you must remember what it was like to be eleven years old."

"Maybe after all those years, I've finally come to understand my own father." Uncle Tom inhaled sharply.

"But Uncle Tom. You said to Aunt Crystal that you can never prepare yourself for all the dangers in the world. And Princess Panthera of Silvermark then—she was murdered while sleeping in her own bed. You can't protect me from everything."

"Travelling all those miles to the Port of Diligence? It's such a long way, Seb. What if you fall ill again? Do you really want the whole of The Greenlands to know what you suffer from," Uncle Tom added in a whisper, "hysteria."

"I'm already better." It was partly a lie: his heart was still beating wildly, and whenever he breathed in, it was as though something was stuck in his throat. "Please. I beg you, Uncle Tom. Thousand times please."

"He's Bran's boy, alright." Healer Mark's grin slipped into a nice laugh. "I agree that a week-long trip is not advisable at this stage, but Eastpond isn't too far away. If Your Majesty wishes, I can brew a diluted version of a poppy potion, assure a good night's rest before he leaves."

Eastpond was only an hour ride from the capital, giving him not nearly enough time to properly say goodbye to Alex, but the sceptical look on Uncle Tom's face was enough to know that he wouldn't get much more.

Uncle Tom sighed. Rubbing his day-old stubbly beard, he looked at him. "So you really want to fly out, little birdy?"

"I don't need to fly, Uncle Tom. Riding will be enough."

That made his uncle chuckle. "You promise you will be on your best behaviour. No sulking, crying, or protesting when you're told to return."

Sebastian nodded.

"Alright, fine," Uncle Tom gave in. "To Eastpond, but not a mile further."