IRYNA
When I got home, the lights were still on. My mother sat at the small table, flipping through her savings book. Her brows were furrowed. She was calculating something — again. I stood there for a moment and just watched her. That was when I broke. The tears came without warning. My body trembled violently, like something inside me had finally shattered.
She turned at the sound.
"Iryna?"
She rushed to me before I could wipe my face and pulled me into a tight embrace.
"What happened? Talk to me."
But I couldn't. The words wouldn't come. My throat burned. My chest hurt. I buried my face in her shoulder and cried like I hadn't cried since I was a child. She didn't press further. She just held me.
After a while, she led me to my room and made me sit. She brought tea. Her hands were shaking slightly. When I finally managed to speak, I told her everything. The diagnosis. The month. The impossibility. When I finished, her eyes were full of tears. For a moment, I regretted telling her. I had wanted to protect her. But if she found out too late… that would hurt even more.
She pulled me into another hug.
"Don't cry," she whispered — even though her voice was breaking. "There will be a way. We won't lose hope."
I gave her a small, sad smile.
"Maybe… we shouldn't ignore it anymore," I said softly. "Let's just… cherish the time we have."
She hugged me tighter.
"We'll go through it together. You're not alone."
That night, exhaustion dragged me into sleep. And then— Darkness. Not the darkness of a room. The darkness of a sky with no stars. The ground beneath me was black stone, cracked with faint glowing lines like veins of dying fire. The air was heavy — thick — charged with something ancient. Shapes moved above me. They weren't human. Winged creatures soared through the sky — their silhouettes sharp, unnatural. Some had horns. Others had elongated limbs. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dark. None of them noticed me. Yet I felt something strange. Familiarity. Like I had been there before. I began walking. The ground trembled. A roar split the sky. The creatures scattered instantly — fear rippling through them. And then it descended. A massive dragon.
Its scales were dark as obsidian, streaked with deep crimson lines that pulsed faintly like embers beneath stone. Its wings were enormous, casting a shadow that swallowed everything. It landed in front of me. Red eyes locked onto mine. Ancient. Powerful. Endless. I should have run. I didn't. Instead… I stepped forward. Slowly. My hand lifted on its own. And when my fingers touched its head— Peace. For the first time in my entire life… my chest didn't hurt. The weight inside me vanished. I felt whole.
Like something lost had finally returned. I woke up gasping. My chest felt like it was being torn apart from the inside. I squeezed at my shirt, trying to breathe. The pain was worse than ever before. The door burst open.
"Iryna!"
Ciara. She rushed to me, panic written all over her face.
"What's wrong?!"
"P-pills…" I managed.
She grabbed the pain medication and handed it to me with water. My hands were trembling so badly she had to steady them. The pain didn't fade immediately. It burned. It stretched. It felt like my heart was fighting something. Ciara was crying now.
"How can this just happen? Why you? Why does it hurt you like this?"
I forced a weak smile.
"It's fine, Ciara."
She shook her head abruptly. "No it's not fine, Ryna. You were literally struggling. You were in pain."
I let out a long sigh and then, the dream I just had rushed back to me.
"I had… a dream."
She blinked. "A dream?"
"Yes. I closed my eyes not too long ago and then... I was somewhere dark… not human. It was like I had gone to another world. And there was a dragon." My voice trembled. "When I touched it… the pain disappeared. It felt so real, Ciara."
She stared at me, unsure what to say. After a moment, she sighed.
"Well, if it made you feel okay… even for a second… then it's a good dream."
Ciara's expression hardened.
"This isn't the end, Ryna. I'll find something. Someone. There has to be a way."
I let out a weak breath and brushed a strand of hair from my damp face.
"What way, Ciara?" My voice trembled despite my effort to steady it. "Have you ever heard of a heart defect that hides for years and only shows up when it's too late? This isn't normal. Maybe…" I swallowed. "Maybe this is just how it was meant to end for me."
"Don't say that."
She cupped my face suddenly, forcing me to look at her. Her hands were warm. Steady. My tears slipped freely now; I didn't try to stop them.
"You are not dying," she said firmly, even though her own eyes were shining with tears. "Do you hear me? People survive late-stage heart disease all the time. Medicine advances. Miracles happen. We'll find something. I don't care how impossible it sounds."
Her voice cracked at the last word. I managed a faint, fragile smile.
"You've always been stubborn."
"And I'm not stopping now."
I studied her face for a long moment.
"What possible way, Ciara?" I asked quietly. "Even the doctors said there's no solution. They're already talking about counseling and monitoring and making me… comfortable." My throat tightened around the last word. "What else is there?"
She hesitated. That hesitation made my chest tighten for a different reason.
"I'll check," she said finally.
"Check what?"
She exhaled slowly, like she was debating whether to say it at all.
"If medicine can't cure you… maybe something else can."
I frowned. "Something else?"
Ciara glanced at the door, then back at me, lowering her voice slightly as if someone might overhear.
"My grandmother," she said. "You know she's always talked about… things. About people who can see beyond what normal doctors see."
I stared at her.
"You mean fortune tellers?" I asked flatly.
"Not fortune tellers." She shook her head. "Witches. Wizards. Healers. Whatever you want to call them."
A disbelieving sound escaped me — half laugh, half scoff.
"I thought you stopped believing all that years ago."
"My grandmother never did," she replied firmly. "And even if I haven't seen anything with my own eyes… I believe her. She's never lied to me. She's told me stories about things medicine couldn't explain. Curses. Spirits. Energy."
"Ciara—"
"Just listen," she cut in gently. "You said it yourself. This isn't normal. A heart defect that hides for years? That suddenly worsens overnight? What if it's not just medical?"
The room fell quiet. Part of me wanted to argue. Another part — the part that remembered the dream, the dragon, the strange peace I'd felt — stayed silent.
"You think my life is being… played with?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I'll ask my grandmother to introduce us to someone powerful. Someone who understands things like this. And we'll find out what's happening to you — and how to fix it."
I closed my eyes briefly.
"Ciara… I don't have time to chase fairy tales," I murmured. "I'd rather spend whatever time I have left with my mother. With you. I don't want my last days wasted on false hope."
She leaned forward and pulled me into another hug.
"It won't be a waste," she whispered fiercely. "And I refuse to accept that this is the end."
I rested my chin on her shoulder, too tired to argue anymore.
"Fine," I said softly. "Ask your grandmother."
Her grip tightened, like I had just given her permission to fight.
"All will be well, Ryna," she said, even though her voice trembled slightly. "You'll see."
I didn't know whether to believe her. But for the first time since the diagnosis, a tiny flic
ker of something stirred inside me. Not hope. Not yet. But somewhere deep in my chest… something pulsed. And this time, it didn't feel weak.