جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 70

The healers’ chamber slowly regained its peaceful yet strict order. The bustling demons finished the stabilizing procedures on Sadira, and the chief healer—an elderly but remarkably energetic demoness named Eszter—finally signaled the others to leave the room. Only Damian remained in the corner, silently watching. Abigail, who had helped me to my feet while struggling with her tears, now stood beside Sadira’s bed, holding the girl’s cold hand.“By order of our Leader, we have done what we could,” Eszter said, glancing at me with approval, then at the Mag resting on Sadira’s chest. “The hybrid’s vitality is critical, but your intervention… by channeling your energy through the bond, you managed to restart her regeneration. It was a symbiotic reaction. We have never seen anything like it before.”“Will she live?” My voice was hoarse, heavy with exhaustion and hope.“She will live,” Eszter nodded, though worry still lingered in her eyes. “But her soul needs peace. Her body is drained, as

The healers’ chamber was quiet, only the soft hum of the crystals vibrating through the air like a lullaby whispered by the Nest itself. The golden light radiating from the walls had grown dimmer, more intimate, as if it understood the patient no longer needed the strength of daylight—only the gentleness of dawn.I sat in my usual place beside the bed. The days had blurred together, time measured only by the rhythm of Sadira’s breathing. My hand rested in hers, my fingers tracing the thin line of her wrist out of habit, where faint scars still whispered of the past. Fatigue was no longer a physical burden but a dull haze that wrapped itself around my mind, yet the bond—the thin, silver thread that connected our souls—kept me awake and alert.And then she moved.Not a twitch like before.A deliberate movement.Her fingers tightened around mine—weak, but unmistakable.My head snapped up. My heart slammed once, hard, against my ribs.“Sadira?” I whispered, leaning closer.Her lashes trem

When I returned from the kitchen carrying a tray of steaming, spiced meat and fresh fruit, the healers’ chamber was no longer empty. Damian stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, his face wearing its usual unreadable expression, though I caught the relief lingering at the corners of his eyes.“You’re fast,” he remarked as I stepped past him. “But not fast enough.”“What happened?” I asked, setting the tray down on a nearby table. My gaze immediately sought out Sadira.She sat on the edge of the bed, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but her head was uncovered. Her hair fell freely around her shoulders, framing a face now fully exposed to the world. The sight still sent a shiver through me. She was beautiful, but a new kind of tension gleamed in her eyes.“A message arrived,” Sadira said, her voice surprisingly steady. “From Nathan.”“The Council has convened,” Damian added. “Officially. The first session since Malakai’s death. Nathan is asking you to attend. Both of you.”

The darkness that swallowed me was not cold. It was sweet and dense, a thick darkness infused with a distant, deeply pulsing warmth. That warmth was familiar, a part of my very being, and I knew it flowed from Sadira. The Bond was no longer a fragile thread. It had become a thick, rope-like connection woven of gold and silver, through which her healing, complete essence poured into me, counterbalancing the loss of energy.The last thing I heard was Varró’s hoarse cry of triumph before the cold marble of the Great Hall claimed my body.I opened my eyes slowly, painfully. Instead of the blazing lights of the Great Hall, I was greeted by the intimate, golden glow of the healers’ chamber. The light seeping from the walls was soft now, honeyed and calm.I lay in a soft bed. Pillows cradled my head, a light blanket covered my body. Nearby, Damian and Regnar slept beneath the barricade in the corner, exhausted but still on guard. Abigail sat on the edge of one of the crystal beds, her head r

As I stepped out into the corridor, the air of the Nest felt different from what I remembered. That constant, metallic charge was gone, the electric tension that had soaked into our pores under Malakai’s rule, the kind that never let you fully relax your shoulders, whether you were human or demon. In its place were stone, torch smoke, and something utterly mundane yet miraculous: the smell of roasting meat. Regnar stood at his post, his back against the wall, arms crossed. When he saw me, the massive, silent demon inclined his head in a slow nod. He did not salute or snap to attention like a common soldier. His nod was the greeting of an equal warrior. In the corner of his eye, I saw the unspoken question. How is she? “Starving,” I answered the silent inquiry with a grin. “I think the Core burned through a lot of energy.” Regnar’s wide mouth twitched for a moment, which for him was the equivalent of a booming laugh. He jerked his thumb toward the end of the corridor, in the directio