Battle for the Witches and the Werewolves
Amelia's POV
My body was a furnace of heat, a raging inferno that threatened to consume me, to devour me from the inside out.
Grandma hovered over me, her hands cool against my burning skin, her voice a gentle, insistent murmur that cut through the fever-induced haze that clouded my mind.
"Amelia, my child," she said, her words a soft, desperate plea.
"You must fight this. You must not give in."
My body convulsed, my breath coming in shallow gasps, my eyes staring into the void, unseeing, unhearing, as Grandma's voice echoed through the darkness, a desperate, fading whisper that seemed to come from a world away.
"Amelia," she cried, her words a quiet, anguished prayer, a plea for mercy, as she knelt beside her granddaughter's bed, her hands clasped together in an act of supplication.
