The first morning came with pale, hesitant light that felt normal—too normal for what had happened in the dark hours before dawn.
Niamh sat in a chair pulled close to Jade's bedside, her eyes gritty with exhaustion but refusing to close. She'd been there since Gorvoth left, watching Jade's restless sleep, listening to his labored breathing, her heart clenching every time he made a sound of distress.
The suppressants helped, but they weren't a cure. They dulled the worst edges of the heat, made it survivable instead of unbearable, but Jade still suffered. His body temperature fluctuated wildly, sweat soaking through the sheets she'd already changed twice. He moved restlessly, never fully settling.
A soft knock at the clinic door made her look up.
"Niamh?" Amara's voice, quiet and worried. "I brought tea."
Niamh stood slowly, her joints protesting, and opened the door just enough to slip through. Amara stood in the hallway, holding a steaming cup, her face drawn with exhaustion that mirrored Niamh's own.
"How is he?" Amara whispered.
"Fighting through it," Niamh said quietly, accepting the tea gratefully. The warmth felt good against her cold hands.
Amara nodded, then hesitated. "Lio's been in the courtyard since before dawn. Training. I tried to get him to eat something but he..." She swallowed hard. "He barely looked at me. Just said he wasn't hungry and went back to the forms."
Niamh squeezed her shoulder. "Give him time. What happened—he needs to work through it."
"I know, I just—" Amara's voice wavered. "He's my little brother. I hate seeing him like this."
"I know," Niamh said softly. "But he'll come around. He just needs to process."
Amara nodded, wiping quickly at her eyes. "The apprentices are asking questions. About last night. What should I tell them?"
"The truth, mostly," Niamh said. "There was an attempted break-in. It was dealt with. Jade had a severe reaction to stress and illness combined, and he needs complete rest and isolation. That's all they need to know."
"I'll handle it," Amara said. She glanced toward the clinic door. "If you need anything—if either of you need anything—"
"I'll call," Niamh promised.
After Amara left, Niamh returned to her vigil. The morning stretched long and quiet, broken only by Jade's occasional moans and the distant noise of Lio training in the courtyard—the repeated impact of strikes, the whistle of wind manipulation.
She changed Jade's sheets and clothes again when they became too soaked. Pressed cool cloths to his burning forehead. Administered another dose of suppressants right on schedule. Small acts of care that felt desperately inadequate.
....
....
It was mid-afternoon when the shop's front door burst open with enough force to rattle the walls.
"Niamh!" Selene's voice rang through the workshop, high and panicked. "Where is he?!"
Footsteps thundered across the floor, and then Selene was there, her emerald eyes wild, her usual elegant composure completely shattered. She grabbed Niamh by the arms the moment she emerged from the clinic.
"Tell me he's okay," Selene said, her voice shaking. "Kael told me there was an attack—that someone broke in—tell me that bastard didn't—"
"Gorvoth got here in time," Niamh said quickly. "He stopped it. Jade is safe."
Selene's eyes closed briefly, relief and residual terror warring across her expression. "But it triggered, didn't it? His heat?"
Niamh nodded, her throat tight.
"Gods." Selene's voice cracked. "How bad?"
"Bad," Niamh admitted, her own composure cracking. "I don't—I can't tell what he needs, Selene. I can't sense anything. I'm just guessing and hoping and—"
"Hey, hey," Selene pulled her into a fierce hug. "You're next to him. That's what matters. But gods, you look exhausted. When did you last sleep?"
"I can't leave him—"
"Yes, you can. You will." Selene pulled back, her expression firm despite the tear tracks on her cheeks. "I'm staying with him. You're going to rest before you collapse."
"Selene—"
"I know what he's going through, Niamh. I can help in ways you can't. And you're no good to him if you're unconscious on the floor." Her voice softened. "Please. Let me do this."
Niamh wanted to argue, but exhaustion was making her vision blur. And Selene was right, she would understand things Niamh couldn't.
"Okay," she whispered. "But if anything—"
"I'll get you immediately. I promise." Selene squeezed her hands. "Now go. Upstairs. Sleep."
Niamh trudged toward the stairs, her body feeling like lead. Halfway up, she looked back. "Thank you."
Selene's expression softened. "I love him too you know ."
...
Selene took a steadying breath before entering the clinic. The moment she opened the door, the scent hit her—sweet and desperate, calling out in distress. Even muted by suppressants, Jade's pheromones were strong enough to make her own body ache in sympathy.
She closed the door softly behind her and approached the bed. Jade lay curled on his side, trembling, the roots of his silver hair dark with sweat. Small, broken moans escaped him in his fevered sleep.
Selene settled into the chair, her expression tender. Without thinking about it, she let her own pheromones shift—releasing the calm, soothing scent that omegas used to comfort each other. Lavender and warm vanilla, gentle and safe.
Almost immediately, Jade's trembling lessened slightly. His breathing evened out, just a fraction. His body responding to the unspoken message: You're not alone. Another omega is here. You're safe.
"That's it," Selene murmured, reaching out to brush damp hair from his forehead. "I've got you, darling. Just rest."
She maintained that steady, calming presence, her pheromones a constant reassurance that he wasn't isolated in this biological hell.
The hours passed with Selene tending to him with the instinct of someone who understood exactly what his body was going through. When his pheromones spiked with distress, she adjusted her own to match—more soothing, more grounding. When he grew too hot, she knew without being told to use cooler cloths. When he shifted restlessly, she understood he needed the blanket adjusted, needed his position changed, needed small comforts that made a difference.
It was intimate work, caring for someone through heat. Not in a sexual way, but in the deep vulnerability of it—tending to someone when their body had stripped away all defenses and control.
....
.....
In the courtyard, Lio moved through combat forms with mechanical precision. Strike. Block. Dodge. Again. Again.
His wind manipulation flared around him, sometimes too strong, sometimes barely there—his control fractured by exhaustion and guilt he couldn't shake.
I was right there. Right THERE. And I couldn't do anything. I almost let Jade get be in danger
The thought circled endlessly, a loop he couldn't escape. He'd been unconscious. Helpless. Useless while someone he loved was in danger.
The courtyard door opened, and Amara stepped out with a plate of food.
"Lio," she said quietly. "You need to eat something."
He didn't stop moving. Strike. Block. Dodge.
"Lio, please." She moved closer, setting the plate on a bench. "At least drink some water."
"I'm fine," he said, his voice flat.
"You're not fine," Amara said, frustration bleeding through her worry. "You've been out here for hours. You haven't eaten since yesterday—"
"I said I'm fine."
Amara flinched at the sharp edge in his voice. He saw it, felt guilt compound on guilt, but couldn't stop. Couldn't let himself stop moving, stop training, stop trying to be better than he'd been.
"I'm your sister," Amara said, her voice breaking slightly. "Let me help you."
Lio's hands clenched around his practice staff, his jaw tight. "There's nothing to help with. I just need to train."
"You need to rest—"
"No." The word came out harder than he meant. "I need to be stronger. I need to be better. So next time—" His voice cracked. "So next time I'm not useless."
Amara stared at him, tears gathering in her eyes. "You weren't useless. You were—"
"Unconscious," Lio said bitterly. "I was unconscious while my brother needed me."
"That wasn't your fault—"
"It doesn't matter whose fault it was!" The words burst out of him, raw and pained. "What matters is I failed! And I can't—I won't let that happen again!"
He turned away from her, resuming his forms with renewed intensity. After a long moment, Amara picked up the plate and left, her shoulders shaking.
Lio didn't look back. Couldn't look back. If he did, he might break completely.
So he just kept training.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Evening came. Niamh returned after a few hours of fitful sleep, looking marginally more human. Selene reported quietly while they stood in the hallway.
"He's stabilizing," Selene said. "Still fevered, still struggling, but the worst spikes are passing. His body's starting to adjust."
"Thank the gods," Niamh breathed.
"Another few days," Selene said gently. "This is his first heat. It's going to take time."
Niamh nodded, blinking back tears. "Thank you. I felt so helpless."
"You're here with him," Selene said firmly. "That's not helpless. That's everything."
After Selene left—promising to return early the next morning—Niamh took up her vigil again. She sat beside Jade's bed in the quiet darkness, holding his hand.
In his room upstairs, Lio finally collapsed onto his bed fully clothed, too exhausted to even remove his training gear. Amara had left water and food outside his door. He stared at it for a long moment, then forced himself to drink the water at least.
The food remained untouched.
....
The pattern continued through the second day. Niamh and Selene alternating shifts, both refusing to leave Jade alone. The clinic became its own small world—dim and quiet, focused entirely on helping one boy survive the storm raging through his body.
Jade's condition remained stable. His fever persisted but no longer spiked. His pheromones continued their call but with less desperation. His body was finding its rhythm, learning to endure what it had been forced into.
In the workshop, life continued in muted tones. Apprentices worked quietly, subdued. Orders were filled. The shop functioned, but the usual energy was absent.
And in the courtyard, Lio trained.
Amara tried. She brought food three times a day, even though he rarely touched it. She sat with him during his brief rest periods, even when he didn't talk. She was just... there. Steady. Present.
"I'm not going anywhere," she told him on the second evening, sitting on the courtyard bench while he went through his forms in the fading light. "Even if you won't talk to me. I'm not leaving you alone in this."
Lio's movements faltered slightly, but he didn't respond. Just continued training until darkness forced him inside.
But that night, the food outside his door was half-eaten.
It was something.
....
The third day brought visible improvements. Jade's fever began to break, his temperature slowly returning toward normal. His breathing came easier. The trembling that had wracked him for days finally eased.
Selene sat with him that afternoon, maintaining her gentle pheromone presence while reading aloud from one of her novels. She didn't particularly care if he could hear her—it was more about filling the silence with something other than sexual need.
"'The duke's smoldering gaze held her captive,'" she read, then snorted softly. "Darling, I hope you're unconscious for this part. This writing is atrocious."
She kept reading anyway, her voice a soft counterpoint to his gradually steadying breaths.
When Niamh relieved her that evening, there was cautious hope in both their expressions.
"He's coming through it," Selene said. "Maybe one more day. Two at most."
That night, Niamh sat beside Jade's bed and whispered, "You're almost there, sweetheart. Just a little longer."
In his room, Lio had actually changed clothes for the first time in three days. Amara had left clean training gear outside his door, and when she checked later, the dirty ones were in the laundry basket.
Small steps. But steps nonetheless.
---
The fourth morning dawned clear and bright, sunlight streaming through the clinic windows in soft golden rays.
Jade's fever had broken completely overnight. His breathing was natural, steady, peaceful. For the first time in four days, he looked like himself—exhausted and worn, but himself.
Niamh sat beside him, watching him sleep properly for the first time, and felt something in her chest finally unclench.
"You made it," she whispered.
As if her words had summoned it, Jade's fingers twitched. His eyes moved beneath their lids. His breathing shifted from sleep toward waking.
Niamh leaned forward, her heart in her throat. "Jade?"
His silver eyes fluttered open slowly, unfocused at first, struggling against the light. He blinked several times, confusion crossing his face before awareness gradually returned.
"Niamh?" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Relief crashed through her so intensely she nearly sobbed. "I'm here. You're safe. You're in the clinic."
Jade's gaze sharpened slowly, taking in the room, the light, her face. Then memory flickered behind his eyes, and his expression crumpled.
"It's over," Niamh said quickly, taking his hand. "You're through it. The heat is over, Jade."
He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. She could see him processing, remembering, struggling with emotions he didn't know how to handle.
"How long?" he asked after a moment.
"Four days."
Jade's eyes opened again, finding hers. And then, to her surprise, tears began to slip down his face. Silent, exhausted tears from someone who'd been through hell and finally had the safety to acknowledge it.
"Come here," Niamh said softly, and carefully pulled him into an embrace.
Jade clung to her, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. All the fear and helplessness and violation he'd endured, finally releasing now that he was safe enough to feel it.
They stayed like that for a long time, Niamh holding him while he cried, her own tears falling into his hair.
When the storm finally passed, Jade pulled back, wiping at his face roughly. His eyes were red but clearer.
"I need water," he croaked.
Niamh laughed—a wet, relieved sound—and reached for the cup on the bedside table. "Drink slowly."
He did, his hands shaking slightly but functional. After several sips, he looked at her again.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For taking care of me. I know it couldn't have been easy."
"You're my son," Niamh said simply, her voice thick with emotion. "There's nowhere else I would have been."
Jade's expression cracked again, fresh tears threatening, but he blinked them back. "Still. Thank you."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, just breathing, just being present.
"You should rest more," Niamh said eventually. "You're awake, but you're not recovered. Your body's been through uhm.. a lot ."
"I know," Jade said, his face reddening a bit.
Niamh smiled gently. "Everyone will want to see you too. Let me let them know you're awake."
She stood, squeezing his shoulder, and left to spread the word.
.....