"Eat something, please."
Elira's voice cracked as she placed the wooden bowl beside her. The soup had gone cold, the herbs floating lifelessly on the surface. "You've barely touched anything for days, Liora. You can't keep fading like this."
Liora sat by the window, staring blankly at the pale strip of moonlight spilling across the floor. Her hair hung around her face, dull and tangled. There was no emotion left, just silence. Her fingers, thin and trembling, toyed with the edge of the blanket.
"I'm not hungry," she whispered.
"You're not alive either," Elira shot back, her frustration breaking through. "Do you want to die, Liora? Because that's what will happen if you keep pretending you don't care!"
Liora's eyes slowly lifted to meet her sister's. They were empty, a hollow reflection of what used to be wild, fearless spirit. "I already did," she said quietly. "The night my wolf died, I died with her."
