Florence sucked in a sharp breath, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Gods above.”
Vivienne steeled herself. “We’re going to need more than we thought.”
Cirrus and Florence crushed more petals while Lewis carefully smeared the glowing paste over the wound. The moment the Noctilum touched Owen’s skin, the petals pulsed with blue light, sinking into him like liquid silver.
Owen didn’t stir.
No flinch. No groan. No reaction at all.
Vivienne’s fingers trembled as she pressed a small amount of paste between his lips, using the last of their water to coax it down his throat. His body remained motionless, frighteningly still.
They had used ten flowers. Only four remained. A heavy silence fell over the cavern.
Lewis wiped his hands on his trousers. "Now what?"
Vivienne’s voice was barely a whisper. "Now we wait."
No one spoke. No one moved.
She turned her eyes skyward, searching the cold stone ceiling as though it held answers.Elandra… please…
The hours stretched on, twisting time into an unbearable, endless limbo. They took shifts, but Vivienne refused to leave Owen’s side. She lay beside him, her bedroll pressed against his, listening to every fragile breath, counting every beat of his weak, fluttering pulse. Cirrus slept beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth, a silent anchor in the abyss of waiting.
Every few minutes, she reached out, fingers pressing against Owen’s wrist, terrified she would find nothing. Each time, the pulse remained. Faint. Slow. But still there. She swallowed past the tightness in her throat, willing the words into reality, whispering them over and over like a spell.Come back. Don’t leave me. Stay, Owen.
Her eyes burned with exhaustion. Her hands ached from clenching. But she would not stop. She would not let him go.
47
Golden shards of sunlight speared through the cave’s entrance, fracturing the dim shadows with their warm glow. The sudden shift in light pried Vivienne from the clutches of sleep. A strange stillness pressed against her senses—toostill.
Her pulse spiked.Who was supposed to be keeping watch?Panic surged through her veins as she rolled onto her side, her breath catching in her throat.Owen.
His face was turned toward her, the softened light casting golden hues against his bronzed skin. A shade of warmth had returned to his cheeks—was it real, or was the morning glow deceiving her?
Her hands trembled as she reached forward, pressing two fingers to the inside of his wrist.Wait… wait…
Relief hit her like a crashing wave as she found his—steady, rhythmic, weak butthere. Her body sagged with the force of the breath she released, a knot unraveling in her stomach as she closed her eyes.
And then?—
A hand, warm and solid, covered hers.
Her eyelids snapped open.
Vivienne’s gasp caught in her throat as she met a familiar pair of deep espresso eyes, filled with warmth, hazy from exhaustion—butalive. Eyes she had feared she would never see again.
"Hello, Vivienne," Owen rasped, his voice raw, the faintest ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.
A strangled noise—half sob, half laughter—escaped her as her fingers curled instinctively around his. Every fiber of her being screamed to lunge forward, to throw her arms around him and hold him tight enough to confirm this wasn’t some cruel illusion.
“Owen,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You're—are you?—"
He gave a weak chuckle that turned into a wince. "A bit worse for the wear, but I’m alive,” he said, shifting gingerly. “I think I have you to thank for that."
Vivienne swiped hastily at the tears spilling down her cheeks, shaking her head. "Group effort," she murmured, trying for lightness, though the weight of all the moments she thought she'd lost him pressed against her ribs. Her voice cracked. “I was so scared you might…”
“Me too,” Owen admitted, shifting to sit up with a pained grunt. His brows furrowed slightly, as though puzzling over something. "I had the strangest fever dream..."
