I woke to warmth.
Not comfort—
containment.
Mana pressed inward from every direction, carefully layered, holding something in place rather than healing it.
My chest burned.
Not pain.
Pressure.
Voices hovered at the edge of hearing, distant and restrained.
"—overflow stabilized for now."
"But the flow's disrupted. This isn't damage we can repair."
"Bandage again. Don't let it spike."
I forced my eyes open.
A white stone ceiling. Engraved runes. Curtains drawn to mute the light.
The infirmary.
My mask was still on.
Good.
Hands moved across my torso, tightening layered bandages etched with suppressive seals. They weren't healing me—only delaying what my body was doing to itself.
Aeldir stood near the foot of the bed.
So did Lysandria.
And beside her—
Seraphine.
Her diary was clutched to her chest, knuckles white. Her usual calm was gone. In its place sat restrained fear—quiet, sharp, disciplined.
"What… happened?" Aeldir asked, voice tight.
"Seraphine screamed. Your mana spiked. Then you collapsed."
I answered slowly. "Overuse."
Not a lie.
Just incomplete.
Lysandria didn't speak.
She stood perfectly still, hands clasped behind her back, eyes fixed somewhere past my face—as if looking directly at the thing that had nearly broken me.
Seraphine took a step forward.
"You were bleeding," she said softly.
"From nowhere. Just… pressure tearing outward."
Her eyes flicked to the bandages.
"They said your blood didn't react properly. Something resisted manipulation."
Dragon blood, then.
Good.
Aeldir exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "You scared us."
I didn't answer.
Because if I did, I would have said something I couldn't afford to explain.
A healer cleared their throat.
"He shouldn't speak. Or move. The vessel exceeded its time limit—mana pressure disrupted internal circulation. We can only contain it."
"How long?" Lysandria asked.
"Until his flow calms. Or until it doesn't."
That was as honest as healers ever got.
Silence followed.
Seraphine suddenly turned toward the window.
"I'll step outside," she said quickly.
"You should… talk."
She left before anyone could stop her.
The door sealed softly behind her.
Lysandria remained.
She didn't look at me when she spoke.
"You were at the lake," she said.
"With her."
I gave a single nod.
"You didn't speak."
I shook my head once.
A pause.
"…You made water butterflies."
I blinked.
She noticed that?
"They were beautiful," she said quietly.
"And stupid."
That almost made me smile.
Almost.
Aeldir shifted. "What matters is you're alive."
I nodded once.
Lysandria turned at last, meeting my eyes through the mask.
"You didn't betray anyone today," she said.
"Whatever you're afraid of—don't let it decide everything."
Then she turned and left.
The door closed.
Only Aeldir remained.
He studied me for a long moment.
"…You're still hiding things," he said.
"Yes."
He sighed, then shook his head.
"Fine. Rest. I'll be here."
I didn't respond.
Because the pressure in my chest was rising again.
Because the vessel was no longer sustainable.
Because this body was never meant to last.
I closed my eyes—
—and let the vessel go,
returning to Aeldir's.