Luna knelt beside Morvane, her hands trembling as she hovered them over his chest. A faint golden glow emanated from her palms, the light warm and gentle, yet it didn't seem to have any effect. She frowned, her brow furrowed in concentration, pouring all her energy into her healing magic.
Minutes passed, but Morvane remained unresponsive. Luna lowered her hands with a defeated sigh. "It's not working," she whispered, her voice heavy with frustration. "But... at least he's still breathing. That means there's hope."
Esmael placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You're doing everything you can, Luna. That's what matters."
Morvane's grandmother, standing at the foot of the bed, nodded in agreement. "We must be patient. His spirit is strong. He will come back to us when the time is right."
