"Lu...na?"
Ravhiel's voice was barely audible—a fragile whisper that cracked through the silence like splintered glass. Luna flinched. His tone was weak, and his breath shallow. He was clearly still in pain.
Without hesitation, Luna rushed to his bedside, heart hammering as her eyes scanned his broken body. Angry red gashes marked his torso, some still oozing blood. His skin was pale, slick with sweat, and trembling. Luna's hands hovered just above him, unsure, aching to help but terrified she'd cause more harm.
"Ravhiel... is this..." Her fingers twitched, wanting to touch him, to offer comfort, something—but the moment she saw a particularly deep claw mark, she froze. "...is this my fault?"
The words tasted bitter on her tongue.
'Why did I even ask that? Of course it's my fault.'
If she hadn't summoned him during the ceremony... if she hadn't—
'If I had just stayed quiet, he wouldn't be like this.'
And worst of all—she still didn't know what exactly had happened.
