Lucy was Sleeping Beauty, except she was a paler version of the fairy tale princess, a snowy version, thanks to her silver hair splayed across the pillow like moonlight frozen in strands.

And Kyle was still by her side, holding vigil with the stubborn patience of a soldier, waiting for a miracle that refused to come. Georgia however hovered close, her every breath strained as she worked spell after spell, potions brewing in rapid succession, herbs scattered across the floor like a witch’s battlefield. She did everything possible to keep Lucy breathing, though her breaths were faint, shallow things, like whispers of a life trying not to be extinguished.

“I...