I paced the corridor of the Celestial Apothecary Guild, my heart hammering against my ribs with each passing second. The journey here had been a nightmare – three days of constant vigilance, pushing myself to the limit while cradling Isabelle's broken body against mine. Her breathing had grown more labored with each passing hour, her skin colder, her pulse weaker.
"Please, Isabelle," I whispered to the empty hallway. "Hold on."
The Pavilion Master had taken her immediately, her face grave when she saw Isabelle's condition. The extraction wounds, the countless needle marks, the sickly pallor of her skin – all testimony to the Veridia City Martial Guild's cruelty.
"I'll do everything in my power," Mariana Valerius had promised before whisking Isabelle away to the treatment chambers. That was twelve hours ago. Twelve hours of hell, of not knowing if the woman I loved would survive.
