Morgana turned the knob, opening the door, and they stepped into the room.
The room was large, far wider than Lukas had expected, the ceiling rising high overhead.
However, the room was empty. There was no furniture or decorations to soften the space. Just the bare stone floor.
But in the center of the room was a single hospital bed. Akira lay on top of it.
Her body had been fixed. The gaping wound that had torn through her chest was gone, her skin smooth and unbroken where the flaming blade had passed through her.
Her chest didn't move, as she was dead, and there was no need to expect the usual rise and fall expected from breathing.
She looked exactly as she had before the caves, down to the size of her breasts. The only change was her skin.
It had lost every trace of warmth. Where her complexion had always carried a healthy vitality, it was now pale, drained of color, and looked closer to porcelain than flesh.
