Fevered Vision Novels & Stories

He was sweating profusely as his body spasmed uncontrollably. After feeling his forehead, Larissa realized it was scorching hot. It was way worse than a normal fever. Vincent didn't become better even after he took some fever-relief medicine and an IV. Once again, Larissa activated her X-ray vision and realized that the polygonal cells in his brain were particularly active. The cells would engulf other normal cells, resulting in an increase of polygonal cells. Though the process was slow, it was evident that the polygonal cells in his brain were increasing at a steady pace.

“I’m the one... who’s going to take it back.” She stood, swaying dangerously. As her vision cleared, something strange happened. The world didn't just look sharper; it looked layered. Her Vampire Perception, heightened by the raw Fae energy still thrumming in her blood, began to peel back the skin of reality. She saw the thermal heat of Nomo’s body, the silver resonance of Elowen’s spirit, and then, something else.

She mutters again, the words broken, like fragments of a dream she can’t wake up from. I can’t make them out. I sit on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair from her forehead. She’s drenched, her nightdress probably one of Mabel’s sticking to her skin. For a second, I don’t know what to do. Every healer said the same thing — the venom’s too deep. Nothing’s working. But I’ve seen this before. Warriors bitten by rogues went through this same fever before their bodies either gave up or fought it off. The trick was to keep the temperature from climbing too high.

[Alice’s POV] The fever was a living thing inside me, a beast trying to claw its way out, tearing through tissue and nerve with every ragged breath I took. The contrast was agonizing — fire in my blood, ice on my skin. The cold air of the bunker bit into my exposed face, sharp and unforgiving, while underneath the mylar blankets, my body burned. I was drifting. The edges of my vision were blurring, turning the dim, gray concrete of the ceiling into a swirling kaleidoscope of black spots.

Did I need to take her to the pack hospital? “The heaviness that she’s been feeling is the same thing. Seeing the vision triggered the imprinting. She said that it felt like their souls were crying out for her to save them because they are. The drowning that she felt could be that the person might have been actually drowning or they were given strong sedatives which might make them feel the same way. This fever is her body’s reaction to the imprinting. We need to keep her temperature down until she wakes up and will feel back to her old self once again.”

Chapter 40: Fevered Visions (Nayla’s POV) The world was a blur of heat and haze. Everything pulsed—my skin, my heartbeat, the very air around me. It was thick and heavy, clinging to me like a second skin. Every breath dragged slow and sharp, like silk sliding over flame. My throat was dry. My lips cracked. The ache started in my belly and spread downward, throbbing, relentless. I was in heat. But not a natural one.

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> Red _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> He's getting warmer. I feel it every damn day, like a fever breaking. Thirty-eight days I've been watching this house, cataloging every detail, every shift in the air. And this warming? It's real, it's specific, and it's messing with everything I've been trying so hard not to analyze.

I couldn’t stand seeing her like this—so vulnerable, so fragile. Her brow was slick with sweat, and her breathing became shallow and uneven. I pressed my palm against her forehead, only to feel a spike of heat. “Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. Liora moved quickly beside me, assessing the situation. Her face was set in concentration. “Her body is fighting it,” she said quietly, eyes flicking between me and Raven. The fever is high, but it’s not an infection. It’s just… her body reacting to everything.”

I want to see her beautiful eyes but she seems to be in deep sleep. I lightly caress my fingers on the cheek and feel the hotness. I put the back of my hand on her forehead and felt the hotness. She is burning with fever. I look behind me and see Lillian who is standing obediently with her head bowed. Why is she standing here like a useless statue?

Her stomach turns. For a moment, she's uncertain which way is up. The sky shifts. The road shifts. Her mouth fills with the metallic taste of copper—blood. Heat follows the cold as it climbs up her neck, crawls into her scalp, and settles behind her eyes. She focuses on a tiny scratch in the window frame. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. The scratch seems to double, then triple. Her pulse begins to race. "What—" Her fever climbs up the back of her neck and spreads behind her eyes. Her pulse quickens. The horizon blurs as she focuses on a fixed point on the window frame, breathing through her nose while telling herself with firm conviction that she is absolutely fine.