Octavia's Point of View
The hospital corridors hum with low voices and the steady rhythm of machines. The smell of herbs, blood, and antiseptic clings to the air, too sharp, and too familiar. I stand just outside my mother’s room, watching through the narrow window in the door as the healers finish wrapping her abdomen with clean bandages.
She is pale, but breathing. That is what matters. She is alive.
I let out a breath I did not realize I was holding.
When one of the healers steps out, I catch her sleeve. “Is she really going to be all right?”
The woman gives me a tired but kind smile. “She is strong. She will heal, she just needs rest and no shifting for a while.”
I slip into the room quietly. My mother’s eyes open as the door clicks shut, they are hazy with exhaustion but soft wh
