A week had passed, and Ahicia's condition continued to deteriorate. Her skin, once glowing with vitality, was now as pale as moonlight, and her lips turned icy blue each morning, a chilling reminder of how fragile she had become. Her movements were weak, her once lively presence diminished to a frail shadow of herself.
Damian sat in the chair beside her bed, his golden eyes fixed on her sleeping form. His hand, calloused and strong, cradled hers—cold, frail, and trembling. He had summoned every doctor, healer, and shifter with even the faintest reputation for curing ailments, but they all left with the same grim expression.
"We've never seen anything like this," one doctor had muttered, avoiding Damian's fiery gaze.
As the days passed, Damian's patience wore thin. His temper, usually tightly controlled, lashed out at anyone who dared linger too long with idle suggestions. His frustration reached its peak when Anara and Selene made a passing comment about Ahicia's condition.
"Get. Out." Damian's growl was low and deadly, reverberating through the room like a storm brewing.
Anara stepped forward to protest, but Damian's snarl stopped her cold. His golden eyes burned with fury, his claws extended slightly, a clear warning.
"Leave this house," he commanded. "Now."
Even Selene, ever the bold one, knew better than to argue. The two left quietly, casting fleeting glances toward Ahicia's door.
But their absence did nothing to stem the ache in Damian's chest. Each time he looked at Ahicia, he felt as if he were breaking apart. She could no longer speak; her voice was a faint whisper, lost to the strain of her condition. Instead, she wrote on a small chalkboard he had brought her, though even that seemed to sap her strength.
Damian clenched his fists, golden eyes shimmering with unshed frustration. He hated feeling powerless. For the first time in years, he didn't have control—and it was killing him.
One evening, Lysandra found him pacing the halls, his usual confident stride replaced by restless, uneven steps. Her sharp eyes softened at the sight of him, but her voice was resolute.
"Damian, you need to go to her family," Lysandra said, cutting through his storm of thoughts.
He stopped abruptly, turning to face her with a glare. "Her family? They're the reason she's like this. They're the ones who—"
"They're the ones who made her this way," Lysandra interrupted, her tone firm. "Which means they're the only ones who might know how to save her." She stepped closer, her gaze locking with his. "Do you want to save her or not?"
The challenge in her voice struck a nerve. Damian's jaw tightened, his claws digging into his palms. He hated the thought of seeking help from the people who had caused Ahicia so much pain. But Lysandra's words hung in the air, an undeniable truth he couldn't ignore.
Without a word, he turned and strode toward Ahicia's room, his steps purposeful. When he entered, the sight of her frail form stopped him in his tracks. Her chest rose and fell weakly, her face pale and serene in the dim light.
Damian knelt beside her bed, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her crimson eyes fluttered open slowly, meeting his golden gaze with a faint flicker of recognition. Her lips parted, but no sound escaped. Instead, she reached for him, her trembling fingers grazing his cheek.
"I'm going to fix this," Damian whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I'll get the answers we need, no matter what it takes."
Ahicia's lips curved into the faintest of smiles, her crimson eyes shimmering with unspoken words. Her fingers lingered on his cheek, a touch so light it felt like a whisper against his skin.
Damian leaned closer, his golden eyes locking with hers. "You're everything to me," he murmured. "I won't let this take you away."
His lips met hers in a kiss filled with raw emotion, a desperate promise of his unwavering resolve. When he pulled back, his golden eyes burned with determination.
"Wait for me," he said, his voice steady. "I'll be back soon."
Ahicia's hand trembled as she raised it in a weak wave, her gaze following him as he left the room. From her window, she watched him mount his vehicle, his form disappearing into the night. Her breath fogged the glass as she whispered to the stars, Don't take him from me too.