The Thread Beneath the Beating Heart
Smoke-thin, her voice faded out. Amara Ravenswood spoke as if balancing on a breath. Uncertainty curled through each syllable. Almost breakable, the silence followed. Fragile echoes stayed behind.
Out of nowhere, she offered some awkward explanation involving "help" along with aligning pressure spots on energy lines. Everyone in the space just froze, eyes flickering in silence.
Julian D'Aurelius blinked too.
They called me… to lend a hand?
The patriarch lay motionless beneath the silk quilt. His breathing was shallow, chest rising unevenly. The room smelled of medicinal herbs and anxiety.
Julian stepped closer.
Even Amara couldn't identify the problem. That alone was terrifying. She was the heir to the Miracle Medicine Record, a once-in-a-generation prodigy of Ancient medicine.
What kind of illness leaves her confused?
Instinctively, Julian focused.
