[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]
Zeraphira went to prepare dinner, while I stood right there, right beside her.
Inside Grayfia's room, her faint breath lingered like the soft echo of a fading hymn—steady, serene, but fragile enough to twist something sharp inside my chest.
Her silver hair shimmered beneath the dim mana-lamps, each strand catching the light like spun moonfire. A faint frost haloed her body, the natural residue of her power still unconsciously active even in her sleep.
I approached the bedside quietly. Even now, sealed in slumber, Grayfia looked divine—serene and untouchable. But seeing her like this… powerless, frozen between life and death—it made my insides burn.
"Damn it…" I whispered, my hand curling into a fist. "You cared for 'me' for over a thousand years, and I still can't do anything for you?"
