Kieran's POV
The moment I stepped out of her room, the air felt different. Colder. Thinner.
Like some part of me had died in there with her.
I forced the weight off my chest, every step stiff and mechanical as I made my way down the corridor toward the other medical bay. I needed to clear my head, to focus. I didn't have the luxury of falling apart. Not now.
The metallic door hissed as it slid open. Inside, Cyrin and Varya were hunched over vials, screens, and ancient tomes scattered across the table. The Ghosthound Queen lay unconscious on a reinforced steel slab at the center of the room, her hair a wild halo, her body motionless, but not for long.
They looked up the moment I stepped in.
"How much time do we have left?" I demanded.
Cyrin's face was taut, drawn from sleepless hours and relentless pressure. "An hour. Maybe less. The wolfsbane is nearly out."
