Evaline:
I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath until the silence between us became unbearable. Rowan’s piercing gaze didn’t waver, waiting for me to speak. My lips parted, and the words slipped out before I could stop them.
"Maybe... maybe it was just a coincidence."
Even as I said it, the lie burned on my tongue. A coincidence? How could such a big wound simply vanish because of one? What kind of coincidence could erase gashes like that?
Rowan’s jaw tightened. He inched closer, gently cupping my chin to make me face him fully. His eyes searched mine, sharp but not unkind. "You don’t believe that any more than I do," he said firmly. "Eva, you should try again. We need to know for sure."
I shook my head instantly, panic rising like a storm inside me. "No-I... I can’t. I don’t even know what I did. What if it was nothing? What if it doesn’t happen again?"
But he didn’t let me hide. He caught my hand in his again, squeezing gently, grounding me. His touch was warm, steady - so unlike the chaos in my chest. "Listen to me," he said, softer this time. "If this is real, you deserve to know. We both do. Try again... please."
His words settled something inside me. The desperation in his tone wasn’t for himself, but for me. Slowly, my frantic breaths evened out. Maybe he was right. Maybe I couldn’t just run from this.
"All right," I whispered, nodding faintly. "I’ll... I’ll try."
His gaze softened, approval flickering in those icy eyes.
I forced myself to look at him properly. The gash on his side, the worst one, was already gone. What looked back at me was his smooth skin with traces of medicine left behind. My stomach flipped again at the impossibility of it. But his right hand... that one still looked raw, scraped and angry.
I raised my trembling hand, hovering it just above his injury. I didn’t touch him, but I knew he could feel the faint heat radiating from my palm. My eyes lifted to his face, nerves twisting my insides.
"I... I don’t know what to do," I admitted, my voice breaking.
For the first time that night, his lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. It startled me, and before I could help it, my own lips curved into a faint smile. "That makes two of us," he said quietly. "I have never known a healer personally. But maybe..." His thumb brushed over my knuckles, coaxing me forward. "Maybe just repeat what you were thinking before. When it worked the first time."
I swallowed hard, trying to recall that exact moment. And then I remembered - I had been desperate. All I wanted was for him to be all right. To stop bleeding. To heal.
Nodding slowly, I drew in a shaky breath. "Okay. I’ll try."
I focused my gaze on his wounded hand, my palm hovering close. Heal. Please heal. Just... get better. Please. My mind replayed those wishes again and again, clinging to them with all I had.
Seconds ticked by. But nothing happened.
I didn’t even realize that I was holding my breath as I continued to try, even when I wasn’t even sure what I was supposed to do.
Still nothing.
I finally tore my gaze away, meeting Rowan’s eyes with defeat heavy in mine, but also feeling lighter in my heart. "Maybe it really was just... some kind of miracle," I said, voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t respond right away. He studied me, his brows pulled together, his expression a mix of confusion and unwillingness to accept my words. He didn’t look convinced, even though I was trying to be.
I turned back to his injury, frustrated and desperate to help in some way if not with this strange, terrifying power. Carefully, I slid my hand beneath his injured one to support it.
My other hand reached for the vial of wound-healing potion sitting in the first aid box. I dipped the cotton swab into the liquid, focusing only on being practical, on doing something that made sense.
But just as the soaked cotton was about to touch his skin...
I froze.
Right before my eyes, the angry scrapes began to mend. The traces of blood vanished, the redness faded, and the torn flesh smoothed over as if invisible fingers were stitching him back together.
I dropped his hand instantly, the cotton swab falling from my trembling fingers. My breath hitched sharply.
Rowan sucked in a deep breath too, his chest rising and falling with disbelief.
Ignoring the panic hammering through me, I moved closer. My hand lifted on its own, brushing the air just above his temple where a small but stubborn cut remained.
This time, I didn’t hesitate. I focused every ounce of myself, every frantic thought, every desperate beat of my heart into one need - Heal. Please, just heal.
Warmth surged through me, moving through my hand and spilling into him. And as if obeying my will, the wound started healing before it completely vanished within seconds, leaving smooth skin behind.
I pulled back, clutching my own hand like it wasn’t even mine anymore.
The silence was deafening. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it.
Before either of us could speak, a sharp sound broke through the silence. It sounded like a scrape, a faint clatter. Both of us snapped our heads toward the balcony.
And my stomach dropped. Rowan was already sitting beside me. So who was on the balcony now?
Before I could have pondered on the question any further, the glass door slid open and two figures stepped inside.
Oscar and Draven.
Their faces were pale, worry etched deep into their features. The moment they were inside the room, their eyes searched the room and landed directly on me.
I didn’t even realize that Rowan was clutching one of my hands until Oscar’s gaze landed on our joined hands.
"What’s going on here?"