Helena leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress so tightly her knuckles turned white. Raphael's small chest rose and fell in the same slow rhythm as before. His face was still pale, his lashes still unmoving. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
"Why isn't he waking up?" she demanded, her voice trembling somewhere between panic and irritation. "It's been a minute already!"
Kayden, crouched beside the bed, didn't even flinch. He was wiping the last traces of the fruit's shimmering essence from his hands, movements steady, almost lazy. "A minute?" he repeated blandly. "You expected a divine fruit that bends life and death to finish its paperwork in sixty seconds?"
Helena's jaw dropped. "Don't make it sound like it's doing administrative work! I thought it would glow, or make a sound, or— I don't know— heal him instantly!"
