Chapter 102
Vera's POV
As we moved through the halls of the packhouse, every step felt heavier, like the walls themselves were closing in. All the words I’d rehearsed earlier—the ones I wanted to say to Andrew—felt childish now. Insignificant. What if I was already too late?
We turned a corner and entered the infirmary wing. The scent of herbs and antiseptics hung in the air, sharp and unfamiliar. There were murmured voices behind a curtain. My heart pounded louder than them all.
Fry pushed the curtain aside, and I saw him.
Andrew.
Laid out on a white bed, shirt cut open, skin pale, his chest wrapped in thick bandages stained with a dark, almost black-red color. His eyes were closed, his breath shallow but steady.
A female healer stood beside him, whispering chants under her breath
