_Dorian's POV_
The night had grown cold, but I didn’t feel the bite of the wind or the dampness that clung to my skin. All I could see was Lyla. Lying there in that damned tub, her body completely still, her face so pale it could rival snow. Her chest didn’t rise, her lips had lost all their color, and her skin looked like it had been drained of life. It had been hours. Too many hours.
She looked as if she was dead.
My knees ached from kneeling beside her for so long, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. I couldn’t even blink without fearing I would miss the moment her spirit slipped away completely.
"Come back to me," I whispered, my fingers trembling as they brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek. It was cold. "Please, Lyla. Please."
The seer sat nearby, cross-legged in the
