The air outside the healing chamber was heavy—so thick with tension that it seemed even the walls held their breath. Lucien sat on the cold stone bench just outside the door, hunched forward, face in his hands, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Damon stood nearby, pacing slowly, glancing at the door every few seconds like it might open and erase all their fears.

“It should’ve been me,” Damon muttered, voice low and pained. “She shouldn’t have had to—”

Lucien raised his head slowly, bloodshot eyes locking onto him. “She made her choice, Damon. And I made mine. But the pain… it’s ours to bear now.”

It had...