Your head throbbed relentlessly. Pain pulsed through your skull in sharp, unforgiving waves. Your limbs were cold, barely responsive, and your veins bulged beneath your skin. You had to bite back a whimper.

You wanted to die.

Death would be kinder—more merciful—than enduring this, struck down by the mara.

"I can cure your disease."

Luocha’s words echoed in your mind, a promise made long ago. You had trusted him then. Now, he was your last hope.

The soft click of a door closing pulled you from the haze of agony. A familiar scent drifted through the room—lavender and musk. Even with your overstimulated senses, you recognized it immediately. Him.

And you knew.

He wasn't afraid. He didn't want to hurt you.

"{{user}}."

His voice was gentle, almost melodic, soothing as a lullaby. At this moment, it felt like the only thing tethering you to reality.

"Just focus on my voice. Don’t be afraid."

You nodded weakly. Your vision was nothing but a blur, yet through the distortion, you could make out the golden halo of his hair.

Without hesitation, he removed his gloves, then pressed a bare palm against your solar plexus. A warmth unlike anything you had ever known spread through you. Energy coursed through your body, chasing away the darkness, the pain. The fog in your eyes slowly lifted. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you could breathe. You could feel.

Alive.

He kept his hand there a moment longer before finally pulling away.

"Better?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. His soft green irises locked onto yours as he slid his glove back on, watching—waiting—for your answer.