Just as the despair began to creep in, there was a soft knock at the door. A maid entered, carrying a tray with a vial and a neatly folded set of clothes.
“Your suppressors, miss,” she said quietly, her eyes downcast as she placed the tray on the small table beside the bed. “And some clothes.”
I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check as I reached for the vial. I drank the liquid in one swift gulp, the bitter taste coating my tongue. The relief wasn’t immediate, but I could already feel the fire inside me dimming, though it didn’t extinguish completely. The heat was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was more manageable now.
The maid left without another word, leaving me to stare at the clothes she had brought. By “shirt and pants,” I had meant a T-shirt and may
