The sterile, fluorescent-lit lights of the Central Hospital's surgical wing was a world of its own, governed by the frantic beep of monitors and the hissed jargon of professionals fighting death.
Jane's condition deteriorated in the elevator. By the time the doors hissed open on the operating floor, her vitals were in freefall. "V-fib! She's coding!" a nurse yelled. The crash team was already waiting. They transferred her from the stretcher to the operating table in a seamless, brutal ballet. A defibrillator was charged. "Clear!" Her small body arched off the table, then fell back. The flatline whine continued. "Again! 300 joules!" The desperate dance to restart a heart began.
Down in the emergency bay, a different kind of privilege asserted itself. Exalibar and Chloe arrived, supporting a limping Sky between them. The moment the triage nurse saw Sky's face—the shock of white hair, the Maxford jawline—her exhausted professionalism was overridden by protocol for the ultra-wealthy and connected.
"Mr. Maxford," she said, her voice instantly deferential. She hit a different button. A senior medic and two orderlies appeared with a pristine stretcher. "We have a private suite prepared."
As they carefully helped Sky onto the stretcher, Exalibar leaned down, his voice a low, wry murmur only his brother could hear. "See? Nepotism does have its perks."
Sky managed a weak, pained smile before he was wheeled away toward the hospital's exclusive upper floors, bypassing the crowded trauma bays entirely.
Exalibar was left in the grim, generic purgatory of the public waiting area with Chloe. The vinyl chairs were hard, the air stale with worry and antiseptic. He sank into one, running his hands over his face.
"It's not your fault, you know that, right?" he said, his voice muffled by his palms.
Chloe stood by the window, staring out at the dawn-lit city as if it were a painted backdrop. "I know," she whispered. "I just… I wish I could have done something more. Held back more water. Been faster."
Exalibar looked up at her. "What you did was enough, Chloe. You saved that mother and child. You gave me the opening I needed. Your powers are for combat. Not for holding back oceans."
Chloe finally turned, her purple eyes glistening. She let out a shuddering sigh. "This mission… it's nothing but a total disaster."
The waiting room doors swung open. Jack and Dylan walked in, their faces etched with a deep, shared exhaustion that went beyond physical fatigue. Dylan's eyes were red-rimmed.
Exalibar stood up quickly. "How are they…?"
Dylan took a steadying breath, the report coming out in a flat monotone. "Aisha's stable. Internal bleeding's stopped. Concussion, three broken ribs, a fractured wrist. She's bruised from head to toe and her mana pathways are strained, but she'll be fine. She's sleeping."
A fraction of the tension left Exalibar's shoulders. "And Jane?"
Dylan's control wavered. He looked at the floor. "She's… she's still in emergency surgery. They had to resuscitate her twice on the table." He swallowed hard. "The doctors… they don't know the full extent of the neural and spinal damage. The mana feedback…" His voice cracked. "Guys… she might not make it."
The words hung in the air, a death sentence draped in fluorescent light.
Jack, who had been a silent pillar, finally spoke, his voice gravelly. "And Sky?"
"He got checked in. The more fatal injuries are handled," Exalibar said, his own voice tight. "The serum blueprint worked on the internal stuff. But he's still got a broken leg, deep lacerations… the non-lethal catalogue of hell."
Dylan's head snapped up, a flicker of desperate hope in his eyes. "He still had mana left?
"No I used my own and unfortunately all i had left"
"So if you recovered and had more could you—"
Exalibar stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Dylan's shoulder, stopping him. "Can and will, Dylan. I just… I need rest. I'm running on fumes and guilt right now."
The night bled into a grim, slow-moving dawn. Exalibar had finally fallen into a fitful doze on the unforgiving waiting room chairs, his head on Chloe's shoulder. He was jerked awake by the sound of pacing.
Dylan was wearing a path in the linoleum, his movements sharp with a new, agitated energy.
"Dylan," Exalibar croaked, sitting up and rubbing his stiff neck. "Calm down. Sit. Sleep, bro. You need it."
"Tried, can't" Dylan said, not stopping his march. "when i almost slept i was woken up by the doctors. The head surgeon came out."
All remnants of sleep vanished from Exalibar's mind. He was on his feet. "What did they say? Was the surgery a success?"
Dylan stopped pacing. He turned to face Exalibar, and the look in his eyes wasn't hope, or relief.
"Not really, Exalibar… the serum. The little bit you used as a blueprint on Sky. The doctors found traces of its metabolic byproducts in Jane's bloodstream. From when we tried to heal her at the dam."
"What about it?"
"Back then it didn't have enough mana to activate," Dylan explained, each word falling like a stone. "But the compound itself… it's hyper-stimulatory. In a body with shattered mana pathways, with a nervous system in traumatic shock… the doctors think it acted like a catalyst for the feedback loop. It might have… it might have amplified the damage." He looked his friend dead in the eye, the unthinkable truth dawning on them both. "Exalibar, the serum… it might have just made a bad situation worse. They will have to perform surgery again"