"Someone… please… save me…"
The plea barely escaped his lips, muffled by the blood that dripped from his wounds, staining the cold ground beneath him.
A teenager—broken, battered—dragging himself forward with trembling arms, the weight of despair pressing against his chest like an iron vice.
But even as he crawled, his heart knew the truth.
No one was coming.
"Hahahaha! Look at him! He's still trying to escape!"
"And that too by crawling on the ground!"
Laughter echoed behind him, cruel and mocking, razor-sharp against the still night air.
Dominic clenched his teeth, his fingers clawing at the dirt beneath him, refusing to let the agony consume him.
No.
He couldn't give up.
He had to live.
For his mother.
For the sacrifices she made—the ones he would not let be in vain.
His breathing was ragged, his vision blurred, but the fire in his heart burned hotter than the pain.
"Get up, Dominic De Caisson Arndell!"
He forced himself forward, ignoring the searing ache in his limbs, the laughter ringing in his ears.
He couldn't die here.
Not now.
Not like this.
Dominic's golden eyes blazed like wildfire, flickering in defiance as the wounds covering his body began to mend.
The men surrounding him recoiled, their expressions twisting into disbelief.
"Impossible…"
They had poisoned him, ensuring his healing abilities remained dormant.
They had beaten him relentlessly, leaving him broken and bleeding.
And yet—
He was still alive.
"Just a little more—"
His thought was cut short as a brutal kick slammed into his stomach, forcing a strangled cry from his lips.
"Augh!"
Blood spilled from his mouth, staining the dirt beneath him, but Dominic refused to crumple.
"This bastard!"
"How dare you use your powers!"
Panic cracked through their voices, urgency replacing the earlier amusement.
"Kill him—kill him now! They won't spare us if he lives!"
Dominic's lips curled into a bitter smile, tasting iron as he listened to their desperate chatter.
His breath came in ragged gasps as everything was turning silent, his body refusing to move despite his desperate attempt to lift his head.
But then suddenly the beating stopped,
The men who had been kicking him—laughing, taunting—now lay motionless on the ground.
No blood.
No sign of struggle.
Just… gone.
"What… who saved me?"
His mind spun, grasping for answers, but his vision blurred, his strength fading too quickly.
And then—voices.
Soft, young, yet firm.
"Is he still alive?"
"We weren't really late, right?"
Dominic strained to listen, catching only the faintest outline of their conversation.
He wanted to see them.
Wanted to ask—who were they? Why had they helped him?
But his body refused him, weighed down by exhaustion and pain.
The edges of his consciousness frayed.
Dominic's breath remained uneven, his body too weak to move, yet his senses remained sharp, especially toward the overwhelming presence of mana radiating from the girl beside him.
She squatted down, her small hands hovering over his wrist, pressing gently as she checked for a pulse.
Her voice—softer than he had expected, younger—yet laced with quiet strength.
"Who… who are you?"
"Why did you save me?"
The girl stilled at his words, letting out a slow, exhausted sigh.
Instead of answering, she reached for his hands, cradling them within her own palms.
Then—
A radiant golden glow surged from where she touched him, illuminating the blood-stained ground beneath them.
Dominic's eyes widened.
This power—it was unlike anything he had ever seen. Even the high priest of Arndell, the holiest figure he knew, did not possess such brilliance in their healing magic.
Not even him—a direct descendant of the Holy Kingdom—had a glow that burned this bright.
Warmth spread through his body, weaving through his torn flesh and shattered bones, filling the void where pain had once thrived.
He breathed.
For the first time in what felt like eternity, he could breathe.
"Who… are you?"
The question repeated in his mind, looping over and over, desperate for answers.
And then—he saw her.
His blurry gaze lifted—only to meet a pair of jewel-like blue eyes staring back at him.
The wind danced around her, lifting the silver strands of her hair, making them gleam beneath the bright moonlight. Her white dress swayed along with the breeze, the purity of its fabric tainted by the blood-soaked ground beneath them.
A gentle smile played at her lips as she tilted her head, those brilliant eyes softening as they narrowed slightly.
"Long time no see…"
.
.
.
"Brother Dom,"
[A/N: Hello guys! This story is the second season of the book 'Saving the Abandoned Empress'. This story will tell you the journey of Eleanora and Cathain of the second timeline, who were back in the past again.
Didn't everything end perfectly in the other timeline?
How could the person who had been plotting for the throne for so long just give up that easily?
Was it all really for the throne?
Was Duke Raven really the real mastermind behind everything?
Let's join us to dig deeper into the past, unveil the hidden mystery, and embark on a journey of friendship and love!!!]