Alaric walked through the grand halls of his home, his steps slow and deliberate as he made his way to Lucy's room. The air in the mansion was heavy with tension, the kind that only came with waiting for a loved one to recover. His mind had been consumed with anger and thoughts of vengeance for days, but in this moment, all he wanted was to see Lucy smile again.
As he reached her door, Alaric hesitated for a second. The memory of seeing her so fragile, so close to death, still haunted him. But he couldn't let that stop him. He needed to see her, to remind himself why he was fighting. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Lucy was sitting up in bed, her face still pale, but there was a small, tired smile on her lips as she saw him. Her small body was surrounded by pillows, making her look even more fragile, but the light in her eyes gave Alaric a sliver of hope.
"Alaric," she said softly, her voice weak but steady.
