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Hours pass in the snow. The curfew is only minutes away. Yurshel remains kneeling, unmoving, despite the snow covering his body. His body heat melts the snow slowly, the moisture mixing with cold winds, forming a thin layer of ice over him. Bit by bit, he becomes a frozen statue.
"Huff... huff..."
Ragged breaths escape Yurshel's lips.
"I'm losing consciousness... it's getting hard to breathe. Must I really give up now? In the end, I guess one can only rely on oneself," he thinks.
But despite his will, his body begins to shut down.
His hypothalamus, acting as the body's thermostat, triggers vasoconstriction—reducing blood flow to the skin and extremities to conserve heat for vital organs. His hands and feet, exposed to the cold, fall victim to early-stage frostbite. Still curable, but dangerous. His mind, unable to endure the pain and cold, shuts down.
Yurshel collapses into the snow. No one knows.
"He must be gone by now, right? To think he stayed there for two hours straight... Well, he has tenacity, I'll give him that," Lana mutters, climbing the stairs toward the room where she had once watched him from.
Looking outside, she sees only a strangely shaped mound of snow. But if one had aura sensing—or a talent attuned to sound—they might faintly hear the slow, fading beat of a heart.
Confused, Lana's irises shift, becoming slitted like a serpent's. Her aether vision activates, revealing heat signatures. What she sees stuns her: a dimming life force buried in the snow. The only warmth comes from the heart and lungs. The boy is dying.
"What?!"
She opens the window and leaps out, landing beside the mound. She digs through the snow and pulls Yurshel's frozen body into her arms.
Lana rushes inside, kicking the door shut behind her. She lays Yurshel on a thick fur rug near the fireplace and immediately begins her work.
She kneels beside him, placing her hands over his chest and forehead.
"Don't die on me, kid..." she whispers.
Closing her eyes, she channels her aether—a shimmering, translucent energy that flows from her core. Her palms glow faintly blue, then shift to gold as she adjusts the frequency of her healing aura.
She begins with thermal infusion, a technique that produces outside heat but penetrates, warming the blood and organs without damaging tissue. The frost on his skin begins to melt, steam rising gently from his limbs.
Next, she focuses on his extremities—his hands and feet—where frostbite has taken hold. She draws aether into her fingertips and presses them gently against his skin. The energy flows like warm water, stimulating circulation and repairing cellular damage.
"Come on... your body's strong. You just need a push."
She then performs therapy, sending rhythmic waves of energy through his nervous system to coax his body back into balance. His breathing stabilizes. His fingers twitch.
Finally, she places both hands over his heart and whispers an incantation of her MSP path, specifically the Soul path:
"Aetheris vitae... restore and renew."
A soft glow envelops his body. The frostbite fades. His skin regains color. His heartbeat strengthens.
Lana exhales, exhausted but relieved.
"You stubborn little idiot..." she mutters, brushing snow from his hair.
******