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The evening air had thickened with an unsettling tension, the once-gentle breeze now laced with quiet urgency. Cheska's heart stilled at the words.
"The boy is dying."
Her breath caught. A sudden chill ran through her, but before she could react—
"Wait, no!" Meileen's voice rang out, sharp and hurried. She waved her hands in front of her in frantic denial, her usually composed face breaking into visible panic.
Riverus shot Morgan Cinth a dark glare, his jaw tightening as if barely restraining himself from striking the older man.
Yet, Morgan— unbothered, carefree as ever —merely let out a slow yawn. Without a care for the turmoil he had just caused, the Master of Medicine turned on his heel and strolled back toward his carriage.
Cheska furrowed her brows. What was that about?