The dim, smoky air of the healer’s hut seemed perpetually heavy. Shelves lined with jars of herbs, strange powders, and preserved creatures cast eerie shadows in the flickering light of the fire. Misery’s body lay on the center table, her stillness unnatural but somehow peaceful. The soft rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life, a fragile tether holding her to the world.
Adrian stood in the corner, leaning against the wall, his crimson eyes fixed on her. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The hours stretched endlessly into days, and still, the healer worked. Her gnarled hands moved with precision, placing stones etched with runes around Misery’s form. Her muttered incantations filled the space, their cadence rising and falling like a song only she understood.
“She’s delicate,” the healer murmured, breaking the chant to glance at Adrian. Her voice was low and sharp. “Her spirit is fighting to stay, but it’s thin—threadbare. The longer this takes, the more uncertain her recovery will be.”
Adrian stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm. “You said you could bring her back.”
The healer gave him a hard look, her sharp eyes narrowing. “I said it was possible. That doesn’t mean it will happen the way you want it to. If she comes back, she may not be the same. Her body, her mind—they’ve been through more than you can imagine.”
Adrian clenched his jaw, his gaze dropping to Misery’s pale face. “I don’t care,” he said, his voice rough. “Just bring her back.”
The healer huffed but returned to her work. The days dragged on, and Adrian rarely moved from his spot. His immortal nature allowed him to endure the sleepless nights, but the weight of uncertainty bore down on him like a physical force.
The healer paused one evening, her expression weary. “You’re clinging to the impossible,” she said, her tone less harsh but no less blunt. “Even if she wakes, she might not remember you. She might not even remember herself.”
Adrian’s eyes flared red as he straightened. “I’ll remind her. I’ll stay until she remembers.”
The healer gave a soft, humorless laugh. “And what then? Do you think she’ll thank you for pulling her back into this world? She might hate you for it.”
He didn’t answer, his gaze returning to Misery. The healer sighed and turned back to her task.
Adrian whispered under his breath, his words almost lost in the crackle of the fire. “She won’t hate me. She’ll understand why I did it.”
But even as he said it, doubt crept into his thoughts. He pushed it away, refusing to entertain the possibility that Misery would wake only to curse him for what he’d done.
The weeks passed with no sign of change, and yet Adrian stayed, unyielding in his vigil. The healer’s warnings echoed in his mind, but they only steeled his resolve. He had fought too hard, sacrificed too much, to let her slip away.