The fact that Nathan was destined to die from the Midnight Curse rang in my head like a bell that fell onto the floor.
Again and again.
Like some stubborn echo from a life I didn't ask to remember.
He lay there in the bed, unmoving. Yet breathing.
The silence of the room wasn't peaceful. It was wrong. It sounded like something holding its breath. And I couldn't tell if it was the air... or me.
The doctor knelt beside the bed, silver spoon in one hand, the back of Nathan's head supported in the other. His hands trembled, not from the weight of Nathan, but from the weight of knowing he couldn't do anything.
"There's nothing wrong with his body," he whispered. "So I... I don't know why he hasn't woken up."
I didn't blink. "Just give the medicine to her and leave."
He hesitated for a moment.
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to.
Harper stretched out her hand, received the bottle, and the doctor practically ran.
