ADRIAN'S P.O.V.
Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if she carried the weight of something I couldn't yet understand. Juliette's grip on my hand tightened as the woman knelt beside my younger self and placed a weathered hand over my chest. Her eyes closed, and a faint whisper escaped her lips—words in a language I didn't recognize but felt ancient, like the rustling of old pages in a forgotten library.
I watched, my breath hitching, as the incantations seemed to ripple through the air, a soft glow emanating from her hand. Suddenly, young Adrian gasped, his shallow, pained breaths giving way to deep, steady ones. I remembered the exact sensation: the absence of pain, the sudden lightness, and the bewildering realization that I could breathe again without agony.
