The cavern felt colder than ever, the damp air clinging to Mikhailis' skin as he knelt by Cerys' side. Her breathing was steady, and the fever that had gripped her earlier seemed to have loosened its hold, though her face still carried the pallor of exhaustion. He adjusted the blanket around her, ensuring it was tucked snugly before pressing a damp cloth to her forehead. The flickering firelight danced across her features, the contrast between its warmth and her pale complexion pulling at his chest with an ache he didn't fully understand.
He lingered for a moment, brushing a stray strand of fiery red hair from her face, his fingers careful not to disturb her rest. Every soft breath she took seemed a small reassurance against the chaotic backdrop of the storm and their dire circumstances. Yet, her vulnerability weighed on him heavily, the hardened warrior reduced to this fragile state—a reminder that no one, not even the strongest, was invincible.
