The stone room was quiet — too quiet. The kind of silence that made even the walls feel heavy. Moonlight spilled faintly through the carved opening above, brushing over the still form of his sister. The air was cold, thick with the scent of herbs and something older… something that lingered like grief itself.
Kian stood at the edge of her stone bed, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his blue eyes fixed on her motionless face. The only sound was his breathing — slow, steady, forced. It was the rhythm of a man trying not to break.
He'd been here every night since she fell into that unnatural sleep. Watching her chest rise and fall, faintly, weakly. It reminded him too much of the way Isabella had looked — trembling, frightened, her voice breaking when she said his name.
His jaw tightened.
He wanted to forget, but the memory clung to him like blood on his hands. The look in her eyes when he'd lost control, the fear that flickered there — that single moment had gutted him.
