Raven's POV
The sound of muffled voices and heavy footsteps wakes me from the most awful dream. I had a dream: a hunter was after me, and he shot me in the stomach. The gunman then got away.
I roll my head lazily to the side and squint against the room's bright lights. The bed I am lying in is uncomfortable, and the blankets feel like paper.
Turning my head toward the voices, I try to open my eyes to see who is causing all of the commotion, but my eyes feel like they are glued shut.
"We cannot just wake her up," my father says. "She needs her rest."
"We are running out of time," Oliver retorts. "Harry's life is fading as we speak."
"I understand that," Father argues. "But there is no way of knowing if she will be strong enough to use her powers when she wakes."
