**TITLE: Whispers Shape Distant Tomorrows by Aren Cole Vale**
**Chapter 76: The Thirteen Shades**
At long last, the man cloaked in black spoke, his voice cold and unyielding, “If the one who sent me hadn’t chosen to spare your life, you’d already be nothing more than a lifeless body. Tell Sullivan not to overestimate his worth, or I’ll make sure to feed him to the fish lurking at the lake’s bottom!”
With a disdainful snort, he turned on his heel and walked away with a calmness that belied the threat in his words.
Clyde stood frozen, his gaze fixated on the man’s retreating figure, his heart racing as he processed the chilling implications of the encounter.
For thirteen long years, he had trained under Sullivan’s watchful eye, consistently eclipsing his fellow disciples, earning a reputation that bordered on legendary in Lakeview. He had always believed he was invincible within the confines of his own domain.
Yet here he was, in the very heart of his own home, rendered utterly helpless, a victim of an attack that had left him crippled, unable to muster the strength to defend himself.
His pride, once a towering fortress, had been shattered in an instant.
It was only when the stunned doctors finally broke free from their stupor, gasping in unison at the sight of his injury, that Clyde jolted back to reality. “What are you all doing standing around like fools? Aren’t you supposed to be doctors? Get to work and bandage me up, now!” he barked, his voice tinged with desperation.
As he glanced down at his wound, a wave of horror washed over him. The gaping injury mirrored the one he had inflicted on Margaery earlier that day.
The only distinction lay in the fact that the assailant had twisted the blade within the wound, creating a gruesome aperture from which blood poured forth in a relentless stream.
Panic surged through Clyde.
He had never witnessed so much blood in his life, and a primal fear took hold of him. “Quick! Stop the bleeding!” he shouted, his voice rising in terror.
The doctors, clearly flustered, fumbled about in a state of panic. “We can’t stop the bleeding! This wound is too severe—it’s a gaping hole, and none of our medicines will be effective! We need to call for Dr. Fischer immediately!”
But the thought of summoning Nolan filled them with dread; it meant that the incident would be thrust into the open, impossible to conceal.
Yet, the gravity of the situation demanded action. Dominic, his face drained of color, turned to one of the doctors, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “Go to the front gate and find my guards. Inform them that Lord Clyde is gravely injured and requires immediate assistance. The Lord Chancellor and Lord Joshua are not at home. Have my father rush to the palace and bring Dr. Fischer here, now!”
Dominic’s voice rose to a near shout, nearly cracking under the strain of urgency.
Internally, he was seething with frustration. He turned his gaze back to Clyde, his eyes narrowing.
“I told you repeatedly to calm down, yet you chose to ignore me! Look at the mess you’ve created for yourself!” Dominic snapped, his voice laced with disdain.
“This is karma, you realize! Did you truly believe you could always stand above everyone else? Thirteen years of training, and all you’ve managed to do is bully a sheltered girl like Margaery!”
‘Seriously, is this pathetic loser really the one that moron brought back?’ Dominic thought bitterly. ‘He’s nothing but a walking disaster—utterly incapable of doing anything right except creating chaos.’
As if that weren’t enough, calamity seemed to follow him like a shadow.
If Clyde hadn’t been the Lord Chancellor’s son, Dominic would have simply watched him bleed out.
Dominic squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to block out the sight.
But his chest still heaved with frustration.
Clyde, gripped by fear and clutching his wound in a panic, could feel the warm blood coursing between his fingers, completely out of control. Dizziness washed over him, and he found himself too weak to continue arguing with Dominic.
“Hurry, bandage me up! You useless idiots!” Clyde shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.
Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he looked at the doctors, his fear palpable.
The doctors, equally terrified, exchanged frantic glances. Finally, one of them stammered, “The medicine won’t work. The wound is far too serious. We can’t stop the bleeding with mere bandages. We need to move him outside—the cold air might help the blood clot faster!”
“Get moving! Carry me outside!” Clyde ordered, his voice a mix of authority and desperation.
He attempted to rise, but a wave of dizziness crashed over him, rendering him unable to stand. All he could do was bark orders at the doctors, who hurriedly assisted him outside to the courtyard.


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