Elias Pov

The hospital was quiet, the air thick with the hum of high-end medical equipment and the scent of antiseptic. I sat by Richard’s bed, my eyes fixed on his right hand. The doctor stood on the other side of the monitor, adjusted a dial, and nodded.

"There," the doctor whispered. "Did you see it?"

I leaned in. Richard’s index finger jerked, a small, rhythmic movement that defied the stillness of his body. It was a sign of a brain fighting its way back to the surface.

"He’s showing signs of life, Elias," the doctor said, his voice low and professional. "The toxin is almost entirely out of his...