Deborah's POV
Matthew's body was trembling violently, as if every inch of muscle was battling some unseen force.
He convulsed uncontrollably, fingers digging deep into the ground, knuckles turning white, and nails nearly breaking into the soil.
The pain seemed to consume him entirely, like a fire scorching him from the inside out.
Sweat drenched his entire body, leaving his skin glistening under the dim light.
His breathing was labored, ragged and harsh, and each exhale seemed to carry a silent plea.
His eyes, glazed with suffering, locked onto mine, filled with loneliness, helplessness, and a deep, raw despair.
His gaze screamed silently for relief, silently screaming, "Help me."
"Matthew, hang on… I'm here…" I whispered through the lump in my throat, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over.
But I didn't know how to help him.
I frantically searched through every spell I knew, but there wasn't a single one that could alleviate his pain.
Not a single incantation to break this curse; after all, it was the witches themselves who had sealed the werewolves' fate.
"Deborah, Maeve! Please, help me save him!" I silently cried out, desperate for an answer. But no answer came.
His body alternated between freezing cold and burning hot, convulsing uncontrollably.
One moment, he was shivering violently, his lips turning blue; the next moment, his skin felt like a furnace, scorching to the touch.
I held him tighter, desperately hoping that my warmth could somehow ease his suffering, but that hope felt as fragile as a cobweb.
"Everything's going to be okay… It's going to be okay…" I murmured softly, repeating the words over and over like a prayer, even though I knew they were empty.
Time seemed to stretch on endlessly.
His body convulsed in my arms, until finally, the spasms began to slow.
He was utterly spent, every muscle drained of strength.
His face was deathly pale, his entire body cold and motionless, as if the last traces of life were slipping away.
"Matthew? Matthew!" I called his name, panic rising like bile in my throat.
I reached out, frantically searching for a pulse at his neck.
A faint, fluttering beat met my fingertips, and I exhaled shakily.
He was still alive.
But I knew, deep down, that if this continued, he might really die in my arms.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to remain calm. With the last of my strength, I whispered the incantation: "Ignis Ardens."
A tiny flame flickered to life in my palm, its soft orange glow casting a faint light over Matthew's lifeless face.
I leaned back against the wall, my entire body trembling from exhaustion, but the warmth of the fire offered a small reprieve from the icy chill of fear that had settled in my bones.
The flame danced quietly in the darkness, until finally, I couldn't hold on any longer. My eyelids drooped, and I drifted into sleep.
Maeve appeared before me, and beside her stood the woman who had secretly slipped a pouch into my hand back in Tirnanog. The one I had never spoken to but had sensed something familiar about.
The woman was crying, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.
"Please… save them… Please, save them…"
Her voice was full of despair, but I couldn't understand what she was begging for.
"What's happening? How am I supposed to help?" I called out to her, but she only shook her head, sobbing silently.
Her face began to blur, and the dream faded away.
I jolted awake, gasping.
The faint light of dawn seeped through the broken walls.
The fire had long since died out, leaving only thin wisps of smoke curling into the cool morning air.
"Matthew…" I whispered.
He stirred faintly beneath me.
His face was still pale, but his temperature had risen slightly—no longer the deathly cold it had been the night before.
I touched his forehead gently, feeling the faint warmth beneath my fingertips.
It was a small improvement, but I couldn't let myself be too hopeful yet.
He was still weak—too weak for us to stay in this dangerous, ruined city for long.
I needed to find more supplies—water, food, and anything else that could help us survive the unknown dangers that lay ahead.
Even though the city was nearly stripped bare, I had no choice but to search.
"I'll be right back," I murmured softly, covering Matthew with the remains of a tattered cloak.
Then, I slipped out of the basement as quietly as I could.
The once-blazing flames around the square had died down, leaving only the acrid scent of burnt moths hanging in the air.
I moved cautiously through the ruined streets, broken walls and shattered windows staring back at me like hollow eyes.
Everything was bleak, lifeless. But I kept searching.
Eventually, I found a few cans that looked relatively intact.
Checking the dates, I realized they had expired over fifty years ago.
I sighed, stuffing them into my bag. We didn't have a choice.
Even these decaying cans were a lifeline in this forsaken place.
I found a few rusted knives and some worn-out clothing.
The clothes were in terrible condition, but at least they could keep us warm.
This city… it was like a graveyard, the remnants of a once-thriving world reduced to rubble and dust.
A deep sense of helplessness washed over me.
We didn't have much time left.
I had to find Tirfothuinn.
That place was our only hope—Murias' only hope.
There was a faint tug at my chest, a strange sensation, as if something far away was calling to me.
I knew it was the direction of Tirfothuinn.
But we were still too far away for the feeling to be strong.
It was like trying to hear a whisper in the middle of a storm.
"I have to reach it—I have to," I whispered to myself over and over again.
Suddenly, a low rumble echoed through the sky.
My heart clenched.
The clear sky had turned dark, thick clouds rolling in overhead.
The temperature dropped sharply.
"What's happening?"
Before I could react, massive hailstones began to plummet from the sky—each one the size of a fist, crashing to the ground with deafening force.
"Damn it…" I swore under my breath, shielding my head and sprinting back to the basement.
The hail pounded relentlessly, shattering what little remained of the windows and battering the ground mercilessly.
The world around me blurred into a chaotic blur of ice and wind.
I stumbled into the basement, throwing myself beside Matthew and hastily packing our scant supplies into the bag.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it—
A massive tornado, swirling up from the far end of the city, devouring everything in its path.
Debris, shattered buildings, everything was swept up into its maw.
"Matthew, we have to go!"
Grabbing his limp hand, I shouted the incantation: "Ventus Swift!"
A gust of wind surged around us, and our bodies vanished just as the tornado bore down on the crumbling remains of the city.