Married To Darkness-Chapter 411: Sebastian To The Rescue

Oh no.

He ducked under her next blow, slashed across her side—but his injured body was slowing. His vision blurred. He couldn’t hold them both.

He stumbled. The man grabbed his arm.

"You’re a good fighter, knight," he sneered, twisting Heappal’s wrist until his blade dropped. "But you should’ve died with your royals."

"You first," Heappal gritted, slamming his head into the man’s face.

They both reeled.

But the woman was already behind him.

She raised her spear, panting, face twisted with fury.

And then—

A howl tore through the air.

Not a wolf.

A girl.

A voice Heappal knew too well.

"Heappal!"

Thalia.

She was back—and she was running straight at them.

Heappal barely registered her voice at first.

"Heappal!"

It rang across the trees like a ghost call. Sharp. Frantic.

His eyes snapped to the sound just as a blur of pale limbs and dark hair burst through the foliage.

Thalia.

Her dress was gone—she wore a massive coat, clearly not her own, and her feet were bare and muddied. Still, she was charging toward them like some wild girl from a dream, her face lit with terror and determination.

"Get away from him!" she shrieked.

The woman hunter turned, smirking at the sight of her. "Oh, the maid. How precious."

Heappal wanted to shout at her to run, but he couldn’t. The world tilted beneath him. His ribs were on fire. His sword was gone. Blood was leaking fast from his thigh. Every breath tasted like copper.

"Thalia... run..."

But she didn’t.

Thalia scrambled to the ground, snatched up a stick—nothing more than a fallen branch—and swung it at the woman with a raw, animal cry.

The hunter caught it easily, sneering. "Cute."

Then she backhanded Thalia across the face.

She hit the dirt with a choked gasp, coat sleeves swallowing her hands, and a smear of blood across her lip. Her eyes were wide. Not just with fear—but with the awful, familiar shame of helplessness.

The man with gold teeth laughed. "It’s always the weak ones who make the most noise."

And that’s when it happened.

The woods bent. The air cracked.

A shadow moved where there had been none. Swift. Quiet. Deadly.

And then came the voice.

"Touch her again, and I will break every bone in your greedy body."

The cloaked figure emerged from the trees like a nightmare wrapped in silk. He was tall—impossibly tall—with broad shoulders that shifted under layered jackets, eyes burning from the darkness under his hood. A glint of silver at his side. A subtle hum of magic in the air.

Thalia’s heart stopped. She didn’t even have to see his face.

Sebastian.

The man hunter turned, laughing, raising a knife—"Who the hell are y—?"

Crack.

Sebastian moved.

Not lunged. Not ran.

Moved.

A blur. A ripple of coat and muscle.

And then the man was on the ground, gasping, throat half crushed beneath a glowing red palm. His knife clattered beside him, useless.

The woman hunter screamed and threw her spear.

Sebastian caught it mid-air.

Snapped it.

And sent the jagged half flying back. It struck her arm. She screamed louder, stumbling—

But not before she slashed—

A last desperate arc of her blade, aimed for the knight who had taken down her partner.

But it missed.

And hit Heappal.

Right across his side.

A red line bloomed across his abdomen—deep, brutal, instant.

Heappal staggered, breath catching.

"No!" Thalia screamed, scrambling toward him as he crumpled to his knees.

Sebastian turned to her, voice urgent but calm. "Hold him. Press there. Don’t let go."

She obeyed, dropping beside Heappal and pushing her trembling hands over the gash. Blood soaked the sleeves of the coat, hot and slick and horrifying.

"Don’t die," she whispered, voice cracking. "Please, Heappal... don’t..."

His eyes fluttered, lips parting to say something—maybe her name, maybe not—but nothing came.

Sebastian approached slowly, his cloak dragging behind him like a king’s banner. He looked down at the broken hunters, and his expression was unreadable.

Then he turned to Thalia.

His eyes softened.

But only a little.

"You shouldn’t have run off like that," he said quietly, almost teasing.

She didn’t answer. She was too busy holding together the one person who’d called her worthless just hours ago. But despite everything—his harsh words, her own fear—she couldn’t let him die.

Sebastian knelt beside them and extended his hand. Magic pulsed faintly between his fingers.

"I can slow the bleeding. Heal a little. But we need to move. Soon."

Thalia looked at him, panic in her face.

"Why are you helping?"

Sebastian paused, then met her eyes.

"I told you, Damsel," he murmured, brushing a strand of blood-matted hair from her cheek, his fingers lingering just a second too long. "I like you."

Thalia blinked, startled by the gentleness in his voice.

"You like me?" she echoed, her heart stumbling in her chest.

"Actually... no," he said, deadpan. Her chest sank for a beat, until he added, "I think you’re my first love."

Silence fell like snowfall—soft, unexpected, and heavy.

Thalia stared at him, stunned. Her breath caught in her throat, her lips parted in awe. First love? Her heart somersaulted wildly, and if the other girls had been around, she might’ve burst into squeals and teasing. But now, alone with him under the silver-touched trees and with Heappal unconscious beside them, all she could do was stare.

Sebastian’s gaze was steady, but his lips twitched, amused by her reaction.

Then, practical as ever, he shook it off. "Alright, let’s go," he muttered, crouching beside Heappal.

With one strong arm, he slung the injured knight over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Thalia gasped, blinking as the man she once admired hung limp and bloodied from Sebastian’s hold.

"I would hold your wrist," Sebastian said over his shoulder, adjusting the weight of the knight, "but this man is heavier than he looks. Walk close, Damsel."

She flushed. "I have a name, you know," she said, half-grumbling as she bent to pick up Heappal’s sword, almost tripping on the torn hem of her dress. "And I’m not a damsel."