[Leif's POV—Healer Wing—Moments Later]
The sound of my boots hitting the floor was faster than my thoughts could follow.
Every corridor blurred past in streaks of white stone and flickering torches. My pulse hammered against my throat—loud enough to drown out everything else.
Nick.
He's awake.
For the first time in days, the words didn't sound like a prayer—they sounded like a miracle. By the time I reached the healer wing, the doors were already open. Light spilled from the chamber—warm, steady, not the feverish glow of magic but the soft gold of morning.
Inside, Eryndor stood near the bed, his hand pressed lightly against Nick's chest, murmuring diagnostic spells under his breath. Thalein sat beside him, exhaustion carved deep under his eyes.
And Nick—
Nick was sitting up. Barely, but sitting. His eyes fluttered open when he heard me. His lips parted in a weak smile. "My lord…"
The sound of his voice—rough, small, alive—nearly undid me.
