Luna rushed toward Esmael, her heart torn between anger and pity. He lay on the ground, clutching his side and grimacing in pain. His breaths were shallow, and his eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
"What happened to you?" Luna asked, kneeling beside him.
Esmael glanced at her, his voice trembling with bitterness. "Morvane… he cursed me." He lifted his hand to his face, revealing a fresh, jagged scar running across his cheek. "He did this."
Luna's eyes widened, and she instinctively reached out to heal him. Her magic glowed faintly in her palms, but when it touched his skin, nothing happened. The wound remained, stubborn and unyielding.
"It's no use," Esmael muttered bitterly, brushing her hand away.
"Esmael," Luna began cautiously, "you can't blame him. You took everything from him—his grandmother, his home. He's angry, and he has every right to be."
Esmael's eyes darkened as he glared at her. "So, you're on his side, then?"