The manor's west wing was unusually silent. Only the faint crackle of fire from the hearth broke through the quiet, its warmth pushing back the chill that seemed to cling to every corner after Lucian's return.
The phoenix healer, Dr. Darian Fennix, stood beside the bed, golden feathers faintly glimmering beneath his coat as he checked Lucian's pulse. His expression was calm, though his brow furrowed slightly at the lingering frost on Lucian's skin.
"You shouldn't be able to survive this level of backlash," Darian murmured, his voice low but edged with awe. "Your core's half-frozen. What in the world did you touch?"
Lucian sat propped against the headboard, his breathing shallow but steady. His eyes, still sharp despite the fatigue. "Does it matter?"
