The silence in Gillian’s master bedroom was heavy, almost suffocating. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the basement where Ghea had performed the grueling ritual. Here, the air was scented with expensive sandalwood and the faint, lingering metallic tang of the blood Gillian had shed. He lay on his massive, velvet-draped bed, his body motionless and his breathing shallow. He was deep in the grip of the Eye of Death, the curse that had been gnawing at his vitality for years. The ritual had saved his life, but it had not cured him. It had only bought him time, and the price was a fever that burned hotter than any natural sickness.
Ghea sat on a stool near the edge of the bed, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She felt exhausted, her own energy drained by the strain of th
