◈Moments Later◈
Zorvath, the royal healer, swept into the chamber, her flowing robes swirling around her like a storm. She bent over Vashti with practiced care, her eyes sharp and steady as she studied the Queen. Without hesitation, she reached into her satchel and drew out bundles of herbs, crushing and blending them into a sharp, bitter-scented draught.
Low chants slipped from her lips, ancient syllables threaded with power, and for a fleeting instant the air shimmered faintly with enchantment.
“She will recover,” Zorvath declared at last, lifting her gaze to Ethan. “What she requires now is rest, and care for the child taking root within her.”
“Child?” Ethan froze, his voice unsteady as disbelief flickered across his face. “You mean...”
A gentle smile softened Zorvath’s features.
