### Chapter Ten: A Flicker of Tomorrow
The night settled in after their parents left, the quiet returning but softer now, less oppressive. Lila stayed close, curled up on the bed beside Syan, her breathing slow and even as exhaustion finally claimed her. He listened to it, the steady rhythm grounding him, a reminder that they'd made it through the storm—for now, at least. The weight of her choice lingered, a fragile bridge between the past they'd lost and a future they couldn't yet see.
Morning came with a faint crackle of frost on the window, the cold still biting but less cruel. Lila stirred beside him, groaning as she stretched. "Syan?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "You awake?"
"Yeah," he said, his throat dry but steady. "You sleep okay?"
"Sort of." She sat up, the blanket rustling as she rubbed her eyes. "Kept dreaming about dragons. Big ones, with ice spears stuck in them."
He chuckled, a faint rasp. "Sounds like you're still in that book."
"Maybe." She paused, then added, quieter, "Or maybe I just wanted something to fight that wasn't… them."
He didn't need to ask who she meant. "You fought plenty last night," he said. "More than enough."
She didn't reply right away, and he heard her shift, her sneakers hitting the floor as she stood. "I'm gonna make toast," she said, a hint of her usual spark creeping back. "No jam this time—just charcoal, your favorite."
"Perfect," he said, playing along. Her footsteps padded to the kitchen, and soon the familiar smell of burning bread wafted in, a small comfort in the chaos of the last day.
She returned with the plate, setting it on the table beside him. "They said they'd start today, right?" she asked, her tone careful. "Doctors and stuff?"
"Yeah," he said. "If they meant it."
"They better," she muttered, then sighed. "What if they actually do it, Syan? What if they get you help—real help? What happens then?"
He'd been asking himself the same thing all night, turning it over in the dark. Help could mean anything—doctors who might slow the illness, equipment to make him less of a burden, maybe even a chance at something more than this bed. But it also meant letting them in, trusting them after they'd shattered everything. "Then we figure it out," he said finally. "Together."
"Together," she echoed, a promise in the word. She sat back down, closer this time, and he felt her shoulder brush his arm. "I meant it, you know. They don't get to split us up. Ever."
"I know," he said, and he did. She was his anchor, his reason, and he'd hold on to her no matter what came next.
The day passed in a haze of small routines—Lila chattering about school, reading another chapter of the dragon book, the knight's fate still hanging in the balance. But beneath it, there was a hum of waiting, a tension neither of them could shake. When the knock came late in the afternoon, it was sharp and sudden, jolting them both.
Lila stood, her breath hitching. "That's them, isn't it?"
"Probably," Syan said, keeping his voice calm for her sake.
She crossed to the door and opened it, letting in a gust of cold and the sound of his father's gruff voice. "Lila. Syan. We've got someone with us."
A new set of footsteps followed, lighter, measured. "Hello," a woman said, her tone professional but warm. "I'm Dr. Ellis. Your parents contacted me this morning about arranging some care. May I come in?"
Syan's heart thudded, a mix of disbelief and cautious hope. They'd done it—stepped up, at least this once. Lila hesitated, then said, "Yeah. Come in."
The doctor stepped closer, her coat rustling as she set something—a bag?—on the floor. "Syan, I've reviewed what little records your parents could provide. I'd like to talk to you about what's been happening, see where we can start. Is that okay?"
He nodded, a small tilt of his head. "Yeah. Okay."
As Dr. Ellis began asking questions—quiet, practical ones about his symptoms, his days—Syan felt Lila's hand slip back into his, a silent tether. His parents lingered near the door, their presence muted but there, a flicker of effort he couldn't ignore. It wasn't forgiveness, not yet, but it was something—a crack in the ice, a chance at more than just surviving.
Outside, the wind whispered through the snow, softer now. Inside, the room glowed with a fragile light, one Syan couldn't see but could feel, burning steady in the bond beside him and the possibility unfolding ahead.
---
Let me know if you'd like an epilogue or any changes here! This feels like a natural pause, but I can keep going if you'd like.