CHAPTER 459: IT ALL MEANS NOTHING

Evaline:

The first thing I felt when I woke up again was the coldness of a hand under my own.

My lashes fluttered open slowly, the ceiling above me swimming in soft, golden light before my eyes adjusted. The scent of herbs and medicine still lingered faintly in the air, mingled with the crisp mountain breeze drifting through a half-open window.

It took me only a second to realize where I was - the same room, the same quiet that pressed down like a weight on my chest. And then I turned my head to the right.

Draven.

He was still there, lying motionless on the bed beside mine, the same serene expression carved into his face. His chest rose and fell faintly, as if he was just... sleeping. But I knew better. I felt better.

My fingers tightened weakly around his hand.

The moment my eyes landed on him, memories came flooding back - my helpless attempts to heal him, the way my power had given everything and still failed to bring him back.

And the moment I remembered, the tears started.

Not loud sobs this time, just quiet, endless streams that slipped down my face like they belonged there. There was no sound in the room except for my soft, ragged breaths and that of the monitor.

I thought I had run out of tears after the first time, after watching him lying there like that. But apparently, grief didn’t end when you stopped crying. It just sank deeper, settled inside you until it became something else... something heavier, something hollow.

The emotional pain was so unbearable that it made every physical wound I had ever had feel insignificant. There was no comparison, no measure to it.

I pressed Draven’s hand to my cheek and whispered his name, my voice breaking on it.

Nothing.

No warmth through the bond. No answering spark. Just that haunting silence where his presence used to be.

After that... everything blurred.

The next few days... or maybe hours, or weeks, I couldn’t tell anymore... merged together into one long, endless stretch of time that made no sense.

I refused to move away from him.

Every time someone entered the room, I stayed exactly where I was, sitting or lying beside Draven’s bed, holding his hand. Sometimes I would talk to him, just a whisper here and there. Sometimes I just stared, waiting for a twitch, a flicker, anything.

My mates came and went, their voices soft and careful.

Kieran tried the most - asking me to eat, to drink, to at least step outside for fresh air. River would stand silently at the door for long stretches, like he was watching over both of us but too afraid to say anything. Oscar... he didn’t say much either. His eyes spoke enough.

They were all breaking too, in their own ways. I could feel it through the bonds, their pain, their exhaustion, their guilt. But I couldn’t do anything for them when I couldn’t even breathe without feeling like my chest was splitting open.

Every time someone placed a tray of food or water beside me, I ignored it. I didn’t have the strength to eat when Draven was lying right there.

What kind of comfort could I allow myself when he was still trapped in that cold stillness?

Sometimes I blamed myself until it hurt to think.

What if I had stopped him from leaving that day? What if I had dragged him to Kieran the moment I saw those black veins?

Those black veins...

The memory made my stomach twist. I could still see them so clearly, creeping just beneath his skin. I couldn’t stop wondering if they had something to do with what happened to him.

But I couldn’t focus on that for long. Every time I tried to think, my mind drowned in grief all over again.

Hours, days, weeks... time meant nothing anymore.

All I knew was the rise and fall of Draven’s chest, the silence of his still form, and the ache that refused to fade from my chest.

It must have been daytime again - the faint light from the curtained window told me that much. I was lying on my side, facing Draven, my hand loosely holding his. The air smelled stale, the room dim and heavy.

Then, suddenly, the door opened.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t care who it was anymore - my mates, the healers, anyone. The same scene had repeated so many times I had stopped reacting.

But then, the soft shuffle of footsteps came closer. Someone crossed the room, and then, all at once, the curtains were yanked open.

The blinding sunlight burst into the room like an explosion, so bright it stung my eyes. I gasped, blinking rapidly as tears spilled again from the sudden brightness.

"Why..." My voice came out hoarse, weak. "Why would you-"

But my words died when I finally turned to look.

"R-Rowan?"

He stood there, framed by the sunlight, the same tall, steady figure I’d always known.

He glanced at Draven once, his jaw tightening. Then his gaze returned to me... unreadable at first, but full of something that made my throat close up.

Shadow of a pain that mirrored my own.

Before I could say anything, he crossed the room in two strides and dropped to his knees beside my bed. Then his arms were around me, warm and strong, and the dam inside me broke all over again.

I hadn’t realized how much I needed that... the feeling of someone just holding me without saying anything, without trying to fix what couldn’t be fixed.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t tell me to stop crying. He just held me tighter as my body shook with sobs that refused to end.

I cried until I couldn’t breathe, until my throat burned and my hands clutched helplessly at his shirt. And still, he didn’t move.

When I finally had no tears left, when all that came out were shallow, trembling breaths, he finally leaned back enough to look at me.

His eyes were moist as if he was holding back tears, but calm in that quiet, grounded way only he could manage. He reached for the table nearby, poured a glass of water, and pressed it into my hands.

"Drink," he said softly.

I stared at the cup for a long moment before taking a small sip. Then another. The warmth of the water slid down my throat, grounding me more than I expected. Before I knew it, I’d finished the whole glass.

It was the first thing I had willingly swallowed in what felt like forever.

He silently watched me the whole time. When I lowered the cup, he took it from my hands and set it aside carefully.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The sunlight poured across Draven’s bed, highlighting the stillness that had once been filled with life.

Finally, Rowan turned back to me. His expression shifted slightly... still soft, but determined.

"Eva," he said quietly, his voice carrying a gravity that made my heart stutter. "It’s time you listen to what I have to say."