The room was drowned in an uncomfortable silence. Victor and I exchanged a quick glance before turning our attention back to Emily, who seemed completely indifferent to the way we were staring at her. It's not like she was lying exactly, but... that's not really how things went down.
I mean, sure — in a way — but with all those details she mentioned? I'm not so sure. Maybe, from her point of view, that's how it all seemed. And yeah, I was worried, but not nearly as dramatic as the way she made it sound.
Victor, who was already visibly confused by my sudden appearance, seemed even more lost after hearing Emily's words. It was almost funny watching his expression — a mix of doubt and disbelief — perfectly mirroring what I was thinking: "Emily... what the hell are you even talking about?" he finally asked, his voice full of confusion and a hint of irritation.
Emily didn't move for a moment after Victor spoke, her face almost unreadable. Then, as if dealing with something completely trivial, she just shrugged: "What?" she asked, her tone carrying a kind of casual, almost provocative disinterest, never breaking eye contact with him. There was something challenging in her gaze, as if she were testing him: "Don't believe me?"
Victor just stared at her in silence. There was something in his eyes — a mix of shock and disbelief — that made it clear what was going through his head: he was genuinely wondering if Emily had finally lost her mind. And how did I know that? Easy — because I was thinking the exact same thing.
Honestly, aside from me, no anomaly would waste time worrying about what humans think of them — much less care about the opinion of one single human. And even though I'm an exception to that rule, I'm not that different. In the end, I don't really care what others think either — except for a handful of humans. And those are rare enough to count on one hand.
For example, even seeing Victor's sister lying in bed, pale and fragile, and knowing — at least logically — that she's probably the most important person in his life, I just can't bring myself to actually care. She's dying? And what does that have to do with me? I know it sounds cold, maybe even cruel, but why should I feel anything for someone I just met?
And yet... if it meant Victor wouldn't look at me the way he did last time — with that mix of anger and pain that felt like it could cut through my skin — then maybe I wouldn't turn down the chance to help her. Not for her sake, but because I don't want him to look at me like that ever again.
Either way, Victor, after hearing Emily's words, couldn't hold back and shot back with a tone dripping with sarcasm: "You really expect me to believe an anomaly would be scared of being hated by a human?" he said, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms, as if his words were a deliberate provocation.
He didn't look away, watching every flicker of Emily's expression, searching for any sign of hesitation. His own face, however, made his feelings clear — absolute disbelief: "Go ahead, tell me the world's about to end" he added, his voice low and sharp with irony: "it'd still sound more believable"
Victor's reaction wasn't exactly surprising — honestly, it was more or less what I expected. It's like saying a wild animal had bonded with you: no matter how tame it might seem, in the end, it's still a creature driven by instinct. Anomalies aren't that different. Most of them act purely on instinct — and worse, their most basic instinct is to attack and kill humans without hesitation.
But before Victor could say anything else, it was Laura who stepped forward. Her eyes, steady and filled with something between pain and determination, locked on him: "You're still as stubborn as I remember" she said, her voice sounding like a mix of reproach and regret: "More than anyone, you should know blaming the [Angel of Death] won't bring Sara back"
The moment her words cut through the air, the atmosphere seemed to tighten. The silence that followed was almost tangible, heavy enough to make the air itself feel thicker, as if even the room had felt the weight of that truth.
For a moment, Victor froze, his eyes wide with complete shock. But the surprise didn't last. In an instant, his expression twisted into pure rage, the very air around him seeming to grow heavier. "You!" he snarled, his voice laced with fury.
He stepped forward, shoulders tense and jaw clenched, glaring at Laura as if he could burn a hole through her soul. "You're actually serious?" he asked, each word spat with raw disbelief and anger.
Laura stayed silent, her lips pressed together, her gaze fixed somewhere on the floor, as if she had nothing left — or maybe nothing she could — say to him. The silence stretched for a few long seconds before Victor exploded, unable to hold it back: "It was an anomaly that did this to Sara!" His voice was hoarse, full of rage and despair: "Something just like her!"
He pointed at me with a trembling, almost accusatory finger, his shout echoing through the room, making the moment even heavier.
"You want me to just pretend everything's fine?!" Victor roared, his voice thundering in the room: "Pretend nothing happened? Pretend Sara isn't wasting away, dying, because of one of those damn anomalies?!" He took a step forward, fists clenched, his face twisted with fury and pain: "I refuse! I refuse to forgive her! I refuse to accept her! Not after what happened!"
No matter how I looked at it, Victor really did seem to blame me for his sister's condition — and honestly, that was insane. I mean, I didn't do anything! I'd barely even seen the girl for the first time a few seconds ago.
So why the hell was he looking at me like that — like I was the one responsible for everything? The accusation was so absurd it made me angry, though there was a trace of unease mixed in. It was completely irrational, like he'd just decided I'd be the scapegoat.
With that thought burning in my mind, I let the words slip out, short and sharp, almost like a reflex: (I didn't do anything)
The second my words echoed in Victor's mind, I saw his body tense. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, shifting it from Laura to me, as though each movement weighed a ton. His eyes widened, a flash of surprise mixed with something I couldn't quite name — fear, maybe: "You..." he began, but his voice failed him mid-sentence, dying in the air as though something invisible had stolen the breath from his lungs.
Victor's hands just fell limp, like the weight of the world had crashed onto his shoulders. He turned slowly, every motion heavy, and sank into the chair beside his sister's bed. His eyes... were empty. Completely emotionless, cold as shattered glass — only a faint, dark glint reflecting the dim light in the room.
With a slow, almost hesitant gesture, Victor reached toward her, his fingers trembling as if afraid to touch her. I stayed where I was, perfectly silent, feeling like even the slightest noise would shatter the fragile moment.
After several seconds of that crushing silence, Victor's voice finally broke the air like a heavy whisper, every syllable dragged out, soaked in guilt and exhaustion: "I'm sorry..." His voice cracked, as though he was breaking right along with it: "I know blaming you doesn't help. None of this is your fault. If it weren't for you two — always there, giving all this support, all this strength — Sara would've been gone a long time ago."
He ran a hand over his face, trying to steady the trembling in his fingers, before letting out a shaky breath: "But... I just..." the pause felt endless: "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore"
I glanced at Victor's silhouette out of the corner of my eye, staying silent. For a moment, I wondered if I should say something — promise him I could heal his sister, maybe? But the truth was, I didn't even fully understand what was happening to her.
The possibility of failure was far too great to give him false hope. Even if there was a small chance of success, it could be something not even Nekra, Althea, Nyara, or Eryanis could fix. And no matter how small that chance might be — it was still there.
While those thoughts raced through my mind, Emily's voice broke the silence with a soft, almost playful tone: "Anyway, we'll give you two some space" She shot me a look full of meaning, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips: "Seems like you've got a lot to talk about"
With those words, Emily gave Laura a quick, almost imperceptible glance before heading toward the door. Laura hesitated for just a moment before following her. But before leaving, she stopped at the doorway, looked back at me, and gave a small wave — a simple gesture that somehow felt heavier than it should have.
The moment Laura and Emily disappeared down the hallway, the room was swallowed by a strange, heavy silence. Only Victor and I remained, surrounded by a quiet so suffocating it felt like time itself had slowed down just to make the moment worse.
Neither of us spoke. The silence stretched between us like a thick fog, and I found myself staring at the floor, completely unsure of what to say. Victor? He probably didn't care — he never seemed to care — so it was hard to imagine he'd be the one to break the silence.
At least, that's what I thought... until his voice cracked through the stillness like a whip: "Sit down" he said.
The only free chair was right next to Victor, so close it almost brushed against the side of the bed where his little sister lay. I hesitated for a moment, blinking as if to confirm that was really my only choice. Then, without moving my lips, I sent my question to him: (Are you sure about this?)
Victor didn't respond right away — just nodded, his eyes still fixed on his sister's hand, as if that tiny connection was his entire world. I took that as permission and did the only thing that made sense: walked over to the chair beside him and sat down.
Once I was seated, I finally got a better look at Victor's sister. Aside from the size difference, she looked surprisingly like him — her facial features, the shape of her eyes, even the delicate way she held his hand.
She might've been even cuter, with an air of lightness that's hard to describe. There was something about her — a certain glow — that made me think she was the kind of person who laughed easily, who filled a room with life just by being in it.
But beyond that, there was nothing. Her eyes stayed shut, her lips still, and not even the slightest twitch moved her hands. She didn't even look like she was breathing. And yet, the machines around her said otherwise — they showed that somehow, life still pulsed within her.
I could feel it too, almost like some strange intuition — a thin, invisible thread telling me that something, somewhere, was still working. It was as though she was suspended in time, trapped in a paradox — dead, and yet, inexplicably alive.
Looking at her like that only made the doubt inside me grow stronger. Honestly, healing was never my strong suit — my anomalous abilities were almost entirely about destruction. And yet, seeing the emptiness in Victor's expression, I felt a tightness in my chest. I didn't want to see him like that, so broken.
So, even if I didn't know whether it would work, I made up my mind — I'd try everything. I'd use every shred of power I had left, every drop of energy I could muster, if it meant giving her a chance to survive — and giving my friend back a piece of the hope he seemed to have lost.