Chapter 120: How is the host doing?
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there in the hallway, breathing in the cool air as it seemed to pull him away from the room he’d just left. The isolation, the coldness, it felt worse than anything he had expected.
Back inside, Isabella, barely able to stay awake, noticed the faint sound of footsteps. Her head turned toward the entrance, her blurry eyes squinting against the dim light. Was that... she wondered, blinking the fog from her vision. She looked toward the door, but there was no one there.
Cyrus.
Her mind was too hazy to process the fleeting moment. Was he there?
It didn’t matter. Not right now. She was exhausted, her body fighting against the weakness that had drained her. She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She had to rest. But she made a silent promise to herself—I’ll talk to him later. I’ll thank him later.
But as sleep claimed her once more, the soft ache in her chest lingered, a quiet whisper she couldn’t ignore. Something told her Cyrus hadn’t been completely gone. Something told her that maybe, just maybe, he was a little more than just the stranger he seemed.
As the room fell back into its heavy silence, the others continued to watch over Isabella, their own thoughts drifting. But Cyrus was already gone, his absence felt in the empty space he left behind. And with that, everything returned to its place, for now.
A few hours passed. The moon had shifted, casting silver light across the cold ground. The fire crackled low, and the others were fast asleep. Only Kian remained.
His tall frame sat rigid against the wall, arms crossed, gaze locked on the figure curled up on the fur bedding.
Isabella.
Her breathing was steady now, her cheeks no longer pale, her lashes long and resting against her skin like soft fans. Glimora was snuggled against her chest, the beast’s white fur glowing faintly beneath the moonlight, like it had been sent from another world to guard her.