Just as Gwendolyn thought things were getting better, Malgarius's body suddenly convulsed. His muscles tensed, and his whole frame shook violently, as if fighting off something deep within him.
Gwendolyn gasped, her hands instinctively pressing down on him, trying to hold him still, but his strength far surpassed hers.
"Milord!" she cried, her voice trembling with fear.
His eyes remained closed, and sweat began to bead on his forehead, his skin growing alarmingly cold again. The warmth she'd been channeling into him seemed to vanish, replaced by an icy chill. His breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps, and panic surged through her.
"What's happening?" Her mind spun with possibilities, but none made sense. She needed to act, but what more could she do? The poison was taking its toll faster than she expected, and her magic, still new and unrefined, felt like it was slipping away from her grasp.
