Ryan's POV
As I slipped behind a rusted box, holding Clarabell to my chest, the air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the oppressive smell of damp cement. Her breaths were too shallow, her lifeless body too light. I struggled to understand why she was in this state at first. Then an influx of what was essentially trivia came flooding into my head.
_The purest of silver is like literal poison to the children of the moon. Beware_
This was practically a creed hammered repeatedly into our heads as we grew up, but it has always had the significance of a nursery rhyme in practice. Why? Because most of our enemies favour equally deadly projectile weapons. Gray was playing his role of being a dramatic fool. The blade he slashed her with had negated her regenerative abilities. Even
