Greta's POV The morning light filters through the windows, soft and golden, but it brings no warmth to the room. The air is still. Heavy. Waiting.I sit beside Selena's bed, her hand in mine, my thumb tracing slow circles on her skin.She's been asleep for hours now—too many hours.Her face is peaceful, her breathing steady, her body still. She looks like she's simply resting. Like she'll wake up any moment and smile at me and ask what all the fuss is about.But she doesn't wake.I've tried everything. I've checked her pulse, her temperature, her reflexes. I've used every healing technique I know—every herb, every prayer. Nothing works.She's not sick. She's not injured. She's just... gone. Trapped somewhere I can't reach.The door opens, and I don't look. I know it's Maya. I recognize her footsteps—quick, urgent, worried.She crosses the room in three strides and stands on the other side
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