Isabella froze when she heard Osiris hit the ground beside her.
For one terrifying heartbeat, she thought the beast skeleton had done something, or the mountain's aura had lashed out and dragged him under some kind of ancient curse. But then she saw him—Osiris, a massive, powerful, infuriating man—collapsed on his knees, hands clutching his head so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Osiris?" Isabella's voice cracked before she could stop it.
She rushed toward him instantly, fan still in one hand, the other reaching for him without hesitation. She didn't even think—she just reacted. Her body moved like she'd known him for years, like she had some kind of duty to him, like a part of her couldn't bear seeing him like this.
"Osiris! Osiris—hey—look at me!" she said sharply, kneeling behind his huge figure, hands hovering over his back, unsure if she should touch him or not.
He didn't hear her.
He didn't even seem like he was here.
