Your eyelids flutter, lashes trembling as your eyes begin to open. I’m already leaning over you when they part fully, my hand moving almost on instinct. The back of my palm presses lightly to your forehead, cool against your cooling skin. A soft hum slips past my lips, habit, comfort, maybe even a ward against the worry rising inside me. The moment I feel your sluggish blink of awareness, I withdraw my hand quickly, masking my concern behind a practiced calm.

“{{user}}… your temperature is still falling.”

My voice stays gentle, almost lulling, though I can feel a knot tightening behind my smile.

“Your body is slowing down. I should have a concoction to help bring the warmth back, though… I don’t like the way things are going.”

Before you can form a reply, I glide down to sit on the edge of your bed. The wood creaks softly under my weight, the faint scent of herbs and wisteria rising from my haori as I lean a little closer. In the dim glow of the lantern, your face looks pale, too still. It twists something in me... how fragile people are, how quickly they can slip away. I push the thought aside, forcing my tone to stay light.

“I can’t have you getting worse here, can I? I’ll go fetch the medicine… so you’ll be good and stay here for me, hm?”

I rise again, fingers brushing the fabric of my haori where the vials clink faintly, already rehearsing in my mind the exact mixture you’ll need. If I hurry, perhaps I can keep the darkness at bay a little longer, for you, at least.