The sterile white walls of the hospital room had become all too familiar to Aurelia Valemont.
Seven long, aching days of watching her little brother lie still beneath thin, white sheets.
The steady beep of the heart monitor. The slow rise and fall of his chest. Those were the only signs that he was still alive.
The others. Cedric, Cassian, Eleanora, Serena. They had all woken within the first day.
Shaken, injured, but conscious. They visited often, sometimes with gifts. Sometimes with jokes that didn’t quite land.
Their voices grew quieter each day, their smiles thinner.
Even Reo and Luna had tried to visit once. But security had stopped them at the entrance.
Protocols were strict for survivors of the Black Gate incident. No unauthorized visitors. No unnecessary risks.
Not that it mattered. Aurelia hadn’t left his side.
She sat in the same chair every night. The same coat draped around her shoulders. Her dark hair had lost its usual polish.
Her eyes, always sharp and bright, were tired now, red at the corners from sleepless nights and quiet tears.
On the seventh day, she finally snapped.
"Why isn’t he waking up?" Her voice cracked the air like a whip, slicing through the quiet hum of machines.
She loomed over the physician, jaw tight, eyes burning.
The doctor. A middle-aged man who looked like he hadn’t had a proper night’s rest in weeks—fidgeted with the edge of his clipboard.
"Miss Valemont. As I’ve explained... his vitals are stable. There’s no physical trauma left. His mana flow has returned to normal. And we’ve checked for internal damage multiple times."
Aurelia’s eyes narrowed. "Then why isn’t he awake?"
The doctor hesitated.
"He’s in a deep recovery phase. Severe mana exhaustion can force the body into prolonged rest. Especially if he pushed himself past his natural limit."
"I don’t want maybes," she said. Her voice quiet but sharp. "I want answers."
Behind her. A quiet sigh came from the corner.
Seraphina Vaelstryx leaned back in the visitor’s chair, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other.
Her pink hair fell loose down her back, and her usually elegant demeanor was replaced by something more... frayed.
Even the ever-composed Seraphina was beginning to show cracks.
She watched the scene unfold with her usual cool gaze. But her eyes kept drifting toward the boy in the bed.
He looked so small beneath the blankets. So still. His pale skin almost matched the white sheets. It was a sight she hated more than she could admit.
And beside him. Curled up like it had always belonged there, was that cat.
A tiny. Sleek black creature with bright gold eyes and an air of smug confidence.
It had appeared on the second day. No warning. No sound.
One second the room was empty. The next it had hopped onto the bed, circled twice, and nestled itself comfortably against Kyle’s legs.
Security tried to remove it. Magic wards were scanned. Detection spells cast.
No curses. No enchantments. Not even a tracking mark.
A very stubborn, suspiciously protective cat.
Aurelia, surprisingly, had taken to it immediately.
And Mochi, in turn, had taken to Kyle like a knight to a king.
No one was allowed to touch him. Not the nurses. Not the medics. Especially not Seraphina.
The cat had standards.
And those standards were: Aurelia only.
She had tried to adjust Kyle’s blanket once, and nearly lost a finger.
Now. She sat with narrowed eyes, glaring at the feline tyrant from across the room.
"I’ve known Kyle since he was seven," she muttered under her breath, rising slowly from her seat.
"That gives me more rights than you, doesn’t it?"
She approached the bed. Careful not to make sudden movements. She reached out, just barely brushing her fingers against his hair.
A paw smacked her hand.
She recoiled with a quiet hiss.
Mochi was now fully upright, eyes narrowed, ears back, fur puffed.
Seraphina gritted her teeth. "Okay. You want war? You’ve got it."
She stepped forward, mana gently rising around her fingertips. Not enough to harm. But enough to be felt.
Mochi’s eyes flared like tiny golden flames.
The cat hit her square on the nose.
For a second. There was dead silence.
A nurse in the doorway gasped, dropping her clipboard.
Aurelia and the doctor turned to stare.
Mochi became a screeching, hissing ball of fur as Seraphina tried to grab it with both hands.
The two of them tumbled to the floor in a mess of hair, claws, and curses.
"Stop—ow!—that’s my necklace—get off!"
"Please!" the nurse yelped from the door. "Please calm down—this stress isn’t good for—"
The doctor tried to intervene and got scratched for his trouble. Seraphina and Mochi were locked in a full-scale brawl under the bed.
It was a soft sound. But it sliced through the noise like thunder.
"Why..." he muttered, eyes still closed, "...is it so damn loud in here?"
Kyle sat up slowly, blinking sleepily. His white hair was a mess. His eyes bleary and confused.
"Seriously? I finally get some sleep and you guys are throwing hands with a cat?"
For a long, stunned heartbeat, no one moved.
Mochi, victorious, jumped onto the bed.
Kyle was crushed in a wave of hugs, hair, and fur. He flailed under the weight of his sister and his friends, trying to make sense of what was happening.
"Wh—hey! Get off me!" he protested.
"I just woke up, I can’t breathe! Aurelia, that’s my ribs! Seraphina, stop grabbing my—ow, that’s my arm—"
Aurelia didn’t let go.
Her fingers curled into his shirt. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder.
"You idiot," she whispered, voice thick with relief. "You absolute idiot."
Kyle blinked again, confused. "Did I... miss something?"
They were too busy holding on.
Too busy remembering how it felt to almost lose him.
Mochi purred smugly on his chest.
Queen of the room. Protector of Kyle.