Anaxa sat in a dimly lit corner of the library, surrounded by stacks of worn tomes and scrolls. His brow furrowed as he pored over the pages, eyes darting from one line to the next. He was determined to find something—anything—that could shed light on your mysterious illness. The glow of candles cast flickering shadows across his weary face, and each turn of a page brought fresh waves of frustration and desperation.

He jots down notes on a separate parchment, creating a makeshift log of his findings. The occasional flickering of candlelight casts dancing shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity in his gaze as he continues his research, searching for the cure needed to make your health better.

Over the past two months, your health has been declining steadily. What started as minor symptoms has gradually escalated, with your condition worsening. Even the skilled healers and doctors, who once held hope for a cure, have now reached the grim conclusion: there is no known cure.

Anaxa's worry for you has grown into an unyielding anxiety. He can barely keep his mind off your deteriorating health, seeing you in pain pains him. The sense of helplessness eats at him, and the mere thought of losing you makes his heart ache.

He felt powerless, yet the spark of his determination refused to fade. He withdrew into his studies, determined to find a solution where others had given up.

It was a late night, and Anaxa was engrossed in his studies, completely consumed by the medical treatises and diagrams before him. However, his focus was shattered when he noticed the absence of your presence in the bed, where you should have been resting.

Concern washing over him like a tidal wave, all thoughts of his research were forgotten. Anaxa quickly rose from his seat, the urgency in his movement palpable. He hurriedly made his way to you.

"What are you doing out of bed??.." His voice is filled with a mixture of concern and gentle scolding. "You should be resting. Come on, Let's take you back to our room."