The Whisper of Hope
The healer’s den was bathed in dim candlelight, the shadows flickering on the walls with each trembling flame. Isla sat beside Draven’s bed, her fingers wrapped around his hand as though her grip alone could keep him tethered to her. His breathing was shallow but steady, the faint rise and fall of his chest the only sign of the life that still burned within him.
Her silver eyes scanned his face, tracing every line and shadow. He looked so vulnerable, his usually strong and commanding presence now reduced to stillness. She brushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead, her touch gentle but trembling. “Come back to me,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Please, Draven. I can’t do this without you.”
The silence of the room felt oppressive, broken only by the faint rustling of the wind outside. Isla closed her eyes, her exhaustion catching up to her. She didn’t realize how tightly she was gripping his hand until she felt a shift—a twitch, faint but undeniable. Her eyes snapped open, her heart racing as she leaned closer.
“Draven?” she breathed, her hope teetering on the edge of desperation. His eyelids fluttered, a brief movement that sent a surge of relief through her chest. Though he didn’t wake, his breathing deepened slightly, a flicker of strength returning to him.
It wasn’t enough to ease her fears entirely, but it was something. Isla released a shaky breath, brushing her lips against his knuckles. “I’ll wait as long as it takes,” she murmured. “Just don’t leave me.”
Stepping outside for fresh air, she found herself in the moonlit courtyard, her silver hair gleaming in the soft light.
“Moon Goddess,” she murmured, her voice breaking as she gazed up at the stars. “I don’t know if you can hear me. I don’t even know if I deserve your help. But if you’re out there, please… show me the way.”
A gentle breeze stirred the air, rustling the leaves in the trees above. Isla closed her eyes, feeling the wind against her skin. For a brief moment, it carried a faint whisper, soft and fleeting: Stay strong, child.
Her eyes snapped open, her heart pounding. Whether it was the voice of the Moon Goddess or her own mind grasping for reassurance, she clung to the words as if they were a lifeline. Isla straightened her back, her silver eyes blazing with quiet determination.
“I’ll stay strong,” she said aloud, her voice firm. “For them. For all of us.”
