Chapter 38: Whispers in the Dark
The medical facility hummed with a tense quiet, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the vast room where Orion lay.
The air was thick with the bitter scent of herbs and the metallic tang of blood, a testament to the battle waged against the Trihydra's venom.
Lysander stood beside the bed, his hands finally still after hours of relentless effort. His clothes, once a crisp tunic, were now filthy, stained with Orion's black and red blood, clinging to his sweat-soaked frame.
Strands of blonde hair had escaped his bun, framing a face etched with exhaustion, his pale skin sallow under the strain. He wiped his brow with a trembling hand, letting out a deep, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the night.
