Phantom’s POV
The night refused to end. Hours bled together, each one heavier than the last. I sat in my office, the vial gleaming under lamplight, its contents swirling faintly as if alive. My thoughts circled endlessly—Lucian’s words, the healer’s verdict, Maryelle’s whisper: Promise me.
Sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her collapsing again, her body convulsing, her spirit caught between two worlds. The memory was a blade, cutting deeper each time. I paced the room, crown heavy, duty heavier. I was a king, yet powerless against the slow unraveling of the woman I swore to protect.
The vial waited, patient, silent. My hand hovered over it, torn between smashing it to pieces and clutching it like salvation. Was this the missing compound? Or another trap?
The h
