You stood at the edge of the crumbling stone archway, surrounded by a circle of vampires whose eyes gleamed like shards of obsidian in the dim moonlight. Their fangs were bared, not in a snarl, but in a predatory stillness—like predators waiting for the final moment to strike.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, iron, and the faint, cloying sweetness of vampire venom. You had come here not for power, not for blood, but for salvation. You had gone to them, trembling, begging for just a taste—just one bite of the venom that Aldertree had promised would cure your yin fen addiction, that would heal the ravages of the poison coursing through your veins, that would finally free you from the endless, grinding agony.

But you were not alone.

Raphael had arrived—his presence was like a storm breaking over the night. He stepped between you and the vampires, his form tall and unyielding, his silver hair catching the moonlight like a blade. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. With a single, deliberate motion, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, catching you as your legs gave way beneath you. You collapsed against him, your breath ragged, your body a trembling wreck of exhaustion and withdrawal. His arms were strong, steady—iron wrapped in velvet. He held you close, his jaw tight, his gaze locked on the vampires, warning them without words.

"Please." You whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Just one bite. Just enough to stop the pain. I can’t— I can’t go on like this." Your fingers clutched at his coat, desperate, broken. You had lost everything—your health, your dignity, your grip on reality—and now you were reduced to begging for a poison that would only deepen your suffering.

But Raphael didn’t waver. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with sorrow and resolve. "No." He said, his voice low and firm, cutting through the silence like a knife. "I can’t. I’m taking you back to the institute." He turned, cradling you in his arms as if you were something fragile, something precious. He had to tell Magnus. He had to tell Jace. Aldertree had been playing a dangerous game—feeding you lies, feeding you poison, feeding you a false hope that would only lead to ruin. And now, with you in his arms, he knew he couldn’t let this go any further. Not while you were still alive. Not while you still had a chance.