Atticus still hadn't woken up. Two days had passed, and yet he remained unconscious.
Anastasia hadn't left his side for a single moment. She stayed beside him, her hand gently brushing through his snow-white hair.
Despite the healing potions Avalon had given her, Anastasia's body still showed signs of age. The burns and wounds had healed, but the toll Elysia's life-draining ability had taken on her was visible.
She had aged, the vitality stolen from her far more than what any potion could restore.
She sat in silence, her eyes soft as she looked at her son lovingly. Arya, silently standing in the shadows, remained quiet, watching over them both.
Since the battle had ended, Arya had been unusually silent, her thoughts filled with deep shame, hidden from everyone.
Meanwhile, in another part of the Ravenstein mansion, Avalon stepped out of a room, his eyes red and bloodshot, his face pale and weary.
