Wilson's hands hovered over the curse mark that marred Max's neck, his brow furrowed in concentration. Despite his best efforts, the curse mark remained stubbornly in place, refusing to yield to his magical abilities. Max, panting and exhausted from the ordeal, could do little but endure.
"Max, sorry, my child," Wilson murmured, his voice filled with regret.
"I think this is not in my hands."
Max took a shuddering breath, his body trembling from the lingering effects of the magic. The curse had brought him to the brink of his endurance, and he longed for relief. In that moment, he realized that Camilla was his only salvation. Her touch and her presence had a calming effect on him that he couldn't explain.
