Sara sat by Sam's bedside, her heart heavy with a mixture of relief and anxiety. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a nearby lantern, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Sam had been unconscious for days, and though he had briefly stirred the previous morning, he had yet to fully awaken. The healers assured her that his body was healing, but they couldn't speak to the state of his mind—or his soul.
She had barely left his side since the battle, only stepping away when absolutely necessary. The image of Sam, standing tall yet terrifying in that dark power, haunted her. It was a power that had saved them, but it had also revealed a side of Sam that she had never imagined existed. And it scared her—more than she was willing to admit.
Sara reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Sam's forehead. His face, usually so full of life and emotion, was now a mask of pale exhaustion. She wanted to believe that when he woke up, everything would go back to normal, but deep down, she knew better. Whatever darkness had taken hold of him wasn't something that could be easily forgotten—or easily tamed.
The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of Sam's breathing and the occasional rustle of the curtains as a breeze from the open window drifted in. Sara glanced out into the night, her thoughts troubled and restless. She had always known Sam was special—different, even—but this was beyond anything she had imagined. What kind of burden was he carrying? And why hadn't he told her?
A knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. It was gentle, almost hesitant, as if the person on the other side wasn't sure whether to interrupt. Sara quickly composed herself and stood up, moving to open the door.
Standing in the hallway was Queen Eleanor. The queen's expression was calm, though her eyes betrayed the worry that she, too, had been carrying since the battle.
"Sara," the queen greeted, her voice soft but steady. "How is he?"
Sara stepped aside to allow the queen into the room. "He's stable, but… he hasn't woken up again since yesterday morning," she replied, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "The healers say he's healing, but I'm worried about what will happen when he does wake up."
The queen nodded, her gaze falling on Sam's still form. "I understand," she said, her voice filled with a quiet sorrow. "What he went through… it's not something anyone should have to bear. But he's strong, Sara. Stronger than even he knows. And I believe that strength will see him through this."
Sara looked at the queen, searching for the comfort that she so desperately needed. "Your Majesty… do you think he'll be okay? I mean, really okay? Not just physically, but… mentally?"
Queen Eleanor took a deep breath, carefully choosing her words. "I don't know, Sara. I wish I could say that everything will be fine, but this kind of power… it changes people. It's not just about what it can do to the world around you, but what it can do to you inside." She turned to face Sara fully, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "But Sam is not alone in this. He has you, and he has Masha. And as long as he has people who care about him, there's hope."
Sara swallowed hard, nodding as she tried to hold back her tears. The queen's words were kind, but they didn't erase the fear gnawing at her heart. "I just wish he had told us," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "If he had trusted us… maybe we could have helped him before it got this bad."
Eleanor's expression softened with understanding. "We all have our secrets, Sara. Some are born out of necessity, others out of fear. Sam… he carries a heavy burden. He might have thought that keeping this secret was the only way to protect the people he cares about."
Sara looked down at Sam, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her. "But I'm supposed to be his friend… more than that. How can I help him if he won't let me in?"
The queen sighed softly, her voice filled with the wisdom of experience. "Sometimes, we have to wait for the people we care about to come to us in their own time. But that doesn't mean you stop being there for him. When he's ready, he'll need you more than ever."
Sara nodded, though the ache in her chest didn't lessen. She sat back down beside Sam, taking his hand in hers. It was warm, a small comfort in the midst of so much uncertainty. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew one thing for certain: she wasn't going to leave Sam's side. Not now, not ever.
The queen stayed for a little while longer, offering quiet words of comfort before eventually leaving Sara alone with her thoughts. As the door closed behind her, Sara leaned in closer to Sam, resting her head on the bed beside him. The exhaustion of the past few days was finally catching up to her, but she refused to sleep. Not until she knew he was okay.
The hours passed slowly, the night giving way to the first light of dawn. Sara's eyes were heavy, but she forced herself to stay awake, her thoughts drifting between memories of the past and fears for the future.
And then, as the sun began to rise, she felt it—a slight movement, a faint squeeze of her hand. Sara's head snapped up, her heart racing as she looked at Sam. His eyes were still closed, but his hand had definitely moved. She leaned in closer, her breath catching in her throat.
"Sam?" she whispered, her voice trembling with hope.
For a moment, there was no response. But then, slowly, Sam's eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused, clouded with confusion and pain, but they were open. Sara felt tears spring to her eyes as she gripped his hand tighter.
"Sam, you're awake," she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
Sam blinked, his gaze slowly sharpening as he looked around the room. His eyes finally settled on Sara, and he frowned slightly, as if trying to remember where he was. "Sara…" he murmured, his voice weak and hoarse.
Sara smiled through her tears, relief flooding her entire being. "Yes, it's me. You're safe, Sam. You're safe."
Sam's eyes softened as he looked at her, but there was something else there too—something dark and troubled that Sara couldn't quite place. He tried to sit up, but his body was still too weak, and he groaned in pain.
"Don't try to move," Sara said quickly, gently pressing him back down. "You're still healing. Just rest, okay?"
Sam nodded faintly, though his expression remained distant. "How long… was I out?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Several days," Sara replied, her voice softening. "We were so worried about you…"
Sam's eyes closed briefly, as if he was trying to process everything. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of something—regret, maybe. "I'm sorry…" he whispered, his voice full of sorrow. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you… about everything."
Sara shook her head, tears finally spilling over as she squeezed his hand. "It's okay, Sam. It's okay. You don't have to explain right now. Just focus on getting better. We'll figure everything out later."
But Sam shook his head slightly, his expression pained. "No… you deserve to know. You and Masha… you deserve to know the truth."
Sara's heart ached at the sight of him, so broken and vulnerable. She wanted to tell him that it didn't matter, that they would get through it together. But she also knew that this was something Sam needed to do—something he needed to say.
"I'm here, Sam," she said softly, brushing his hair back gently. "I'm not going anywhere. You can tell me when you're ready."
Sam looked at her for a long moment, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Sara smiled through her tears, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Rest now," she whispered. "We'll talk when you're feeling better."
Sam nodded slightly, his eyes already starting to drift shut again. Sara stayed by his side, holding his hand as he slowly slipped back into sleep, this time a more peaceful, healing slumber. She watched him for a long time, her heart heavy with emotions she could barely understand.
Whatever happened next, she knew they would face it together. And that was enough.