Helena's POV
The antiseptic scent hits me the moment I step into the healer's wing. Clean linen and medical supplies create an atmosphere that feels foreign inside a pack house, yet somehow reassuring. The rhythmic beeping of monitors reminds me that life persists, even when everything feels like it's falling apart.
I ease the door open and discover Melanie surrounded by white pillows, her body appearing diminished against the stark bedding. Sweat beads across her pale forehead, and my steps falter. She looks nothing like the bold, spirited girl who challenged me at every turn. Instead, she seems breakable, almost translucent.
The door clicks shut behind me with barely a whisper. "Hey," I breathe, afraid to disturb the fragile peace.
Her eyelids lift slowly, revealing eyes that still sparkle with that familiar defiance I've grown to cherish. "Well, don't you look absolutely terrible." Her voice scrapes like sandpaper, but her smile remains intact.
