The silence that followed Cassian's explanation lingered long after his words had settled, hanging in the room like a delicate layer of frost that no one dared disturb.
The healing formation pulsed faintly above Mina's small body, its soft light breathing in slow intervals as if mirroring her fragile state. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and burned mana.
No one moved, neither Valeria nor Vanthrice, nor the mercenaries gathered near the wall. Even the faint rustle of cloth and armor faded into stillness, as though the room itself had chosen restraint, unwilling to intrude on the delicate line between life and loss that Mina now walked.
Cassian remained at her bedside, hands lowered and eyes distant with calculation, already weighing possibilities, resources, and risks.
When he finally spoke again, his tone shifted slightly; it was no longer merely explanatory but carried the quiet gravity of a healer delivering terms of survival.
