I rushed to the hospital.Silas lay in the bed, the once-mighty vampire lord reduced to little more than a skeleton. For a hundred years, he had been driving himself toward death.Julian sat in the shadows on the opposite side of the bed, face buried in his hands, weeping.I walked to the bedside and looked at Silas, his body threaded with tubes. He could no longer speak through his vocal cords, but his eyes were locked on me, his lips moving ceaselessly. He was calling my name."Alice? Alice?"Through the haze, I saw the blizzard again-and a Silas not yet twenty years old, holding me tight, promising me a home.Decades of memories, seen from the other side, felt like one long, absurd dream.His gaze began to drift. When he tried to reach for my fingertips, it took the last of his strength.I reached out and gently clasped that cold, withered hand.I said softly, "When you get to the other side, make yourself a bowl of warm soup. Stop tormenting yourself."A single blood-red tear slid
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