“Olivia,” I said, pressing a firm hand to her shoulder and coaxing her back onto the pillows. “You need to rest. It’s not just about you anymore. Think of the child.”
She let out an exasperated sigh, her gaze drifting away from me. “Resting is a silent madness, Roman. I need to be part of what’s happening. I can’t be left out.”
I crouched beside the bed, cupping her hand in mine. “Your strength is in your resilience right now, not your actions,” I said.
Leaving her to contemplate my words, I stepped into the dim corridor, each step pulling me deeper into the weight of everything unraveling around us. As I approached the adjacent room where Marcellious lay, the air grew heavier, thick with the pungent scent of herbs and despair.
Marcellious was worse than I had imagined—his face was ashen, his chest rising and falling in labored gasps. His body was wracked by an invisible torment that refused to release its hold. Lee stood over him on the opposite side of the bed, a mixture of determination and despair etched into his features.
“I need to take him to the future,” Lee stated without preamble, his voice carrying the weight of a father’s love battling against the tide of inevitability.
Mathias entered behind me, filling the room with an aura of authority and concern. “What is this talk? You want to go to the future?”
“Mathias, look at him,” Lee said, motioning toward Marcellious’ frail, trembling form. “He needs medical care—the kind they have in the 21st century. You might have magic and old knowledge, but there are things only the future can provide.”
“Nonsense,” Mathias countered, his voice a low rumble of certainty. “I helped Malik survive Belladonna’s bite. Surely, you, Lee, can do the same.”
“Marcellious is not Malik,” Lee snapped. His voice wavered, a thin thread of anguish laced through the anger. “He’s a Timeborne, not a darkness.”
Mathias stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “He will be alright. He will come through. We need time.”
“Promises don’t heal the sick, Mathias!” Lee’s voice cracked, and his desperation laid bare. “You assured Marcellious of safety under your care, yet look at my boy—sick, dying.”
“Malik survived Belladonna because of what I did for him,” Mathias said with quiet intensity as if the words themselves could ward off the grim reality before us.
“This is no poison to be purged,” Lee said. “He needs more than herbs and incantations. He needs to return with me to my time, where medicine can do what magic here cannot.”
Before Mathias could respond, a violent cough tore through Marcellious’ frame. Blood flecked his lips, his convulsions throwing him into a desperate fight for every breath. Lee and I pressed down on his limbs, trying to steady him, to keep him anchored in this world.
Marcellious’ eyes snapped open, wild with fever and fear. His lips trembled as a single word escaped, hoarse and haunting.
“Lazarus,” he gasped. His voice cracked, but the name cut through the air like a blade. “He’s coming... going to destroy Salvatore.”
I leaned in closer, my heart hammering in my chest. The name Lazarus chilled me to the bone.
“Stay with us, Marcellious,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, as much a plea to the heavens as to my brother. “We’re going to save you. You have to fight.”
Mathias’ grip on my shoulder felt like the weight of an impending storm, his fingers digging in with a desperation that mirrored the panic in his eyes. The air thickened with tension as he peered down at Marcellious, whose chest heaved with shallow, ragged breaths.
“Mathias, let me go,” I snapped through gritted teeth, my body twisting in an attempt to free myself.
He hesitated, the sinews of his hand standing out against his pale skin, before finally releasing me. My arm ached from the pressure.
Mathias stepped toward Marcellious, his face etched with lines of worry that seemed to deepen with every second. “Marcellious, tell me again what you said…. Who are Lazarus and Salvatore?”
I wedged myself between Mathias and Marcellious, my heart pounding in my chest. Mathias’ expression was tight with annoyance.
“Roman,” he said, his voice low and controlled but crackling with impatience, “Marcellious just mentioned some names. Don’t you think we need to know who they are? They could hold the key to our survival.
I felt a growl rise in my throat, my protective instincts roaring to life. “Leave my brother alone,” I snarled, my voice like steel. “Can’t you see that he’s sick and dying? That should be our priority, not some names he happened to mention. If those names are crucial to you, why don’t you ask Reyna? Maybe she knows who they are.”
The words spat out of me like venom, fueled by my fear for Marcellious and my frustration with Mathias’ focus on the mysterious names.
“Mathias, you saw enough,” Lee interjected, his voice sharp and unwavering. “My boy is sick and needs help. I’m taking him to the future. He’s delusional, and he’s dying.”
Mathias’ lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of his pride and reluctance visible in the rigid set of his shoulders. But after a tense moment, he relented with a curt nod. “Very well. We will do what we must for Marcellious.”
Relief coursed through me, mingling with the urgency pounding in my chest. There was no time to waste—not with the eclipse looming and its ominous weight pressing down on us.
