The infirmary corridor narrowed as Luca ran.
Not physically—but emotionally.
The mana lamps along the walls seemed dimmer here, their warm glow thinning into something pale and tired. The air smelled different too. Less herbs. More cold stone. Like a place people came to wait… not to heal.
His footsteps slowed without him realizing it.
By the time he reached the door at the far end of the corridor, he had already stopped running.
The door was half open.
No voices spilled out.
No healer arguing.
No sobbing.
No movement.
Just silence.
The kind that pressed against the ears until it rang.
Luca pushed the door open with his palm.
It didn't creak.
That somehow made it worse.
---
Lilliane lay on the bed near the window.
Moonlight slipped through the narrow opening above, cutting across the room in a thin silver line that stopped just short of her face—like even the light hesitated to touch her.
