The room was quiet except for the faint beeping of the monitors and the occasional rustle of the curtains in the soft night breeze. Leah had been dozing in the chair next to Izana's hospital bed, her head tilted back, one hand still resting lightly over his. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, and the soft hum of the machines should have been comforting—but tonight, even in the safety of the mansion's medical room, nothing felt safe.
Her dreams turned immediately dark.
She was somewhere familiar, yet wrong. The warehouse from before—the one where the curse had dragged them into its cruelty—loomed around her. Shadows curled like smoke along the walls, thick and suffocating. And there, standing a few feet away, was the boy.
Green eyes.
Not the red she had expected from past visions, but vivid, unnatural green, glowing in the dim light. Leah froze, her chest tightening, recognizing the boy immediately, though she couldn't yet name why. His gaze was sharp, terrified, but not entirely his own. The boy's body trembled violently, pain rippling across him as if every nerve had been set aflame.
"No… no…" Leah whispered, stepping forward, but the ground seemed to shift beneath her. The warehouse walls stretched higher, darkness folding in on itself.
The boy's scream tore through the silence, raw and unrestrained. Then came a figure—older than the boy, with a kind but commanding presence, hair dark and neatly kept, strikingly familiar. His face seemed to echo Elias's, though younger. He knelt beside the boy and pressed a hand to his back.
"I need you to focus," the man said quietly, his voice firm but gentle. "The blindfold… it will help."
The boy's hands flailed, shaking uncontrollably. Pain coursed through him like fire, and his cries grew louder, each one echoing in Leah's mind as if the curse itself was shouting through her. He didn't want the blindfold, but he needed it—desperately. The man placed it over the boy's eyes, and even though it didn't erase the pain, it brought some small measure of relief. The world's blinding light dimmed to something tolerable.
Leah's stomach dropped. She knew this boy. She had seen him before, in fragments, memories that the curse had thrown at her—but this time she could see him fully. Green eyes. Blindfold. The same black hair. And… and the same pain she had felt when she first encountered Izana in the warehouse.
"I know you're strong," the man said softly, pressing a hand to the boy's trembling shoulder. "You will survive this. You have to."
The boy wailed again, twisting in agony, and Leah felt herself reach out instinctively. Her hands stretched toward him, but she couldn't touch him—he was trapped in the vision. Her own chest heaved, heart thundering painfully. She wanted to help, to comfort him, but she was powerless.
Then came a new sound, sharp and terrifying: Izana.
Even in his sleep, even weak from blood loss and fever, his voice tore through the room. "NO! STOP!"
Leah jolted upright in her chair. The nightmare she had been living with collided with the present. His hands clenched at the sheets, shaking the bed violently. His lips moved, screaming words she couldn't understand. The monitors beeped rapidly now, red lights flashing. The beeping was frantic, alarming, insistent.
"Izana!" she shouted, her voice cracking as she jumped from the chair. She leaned over him, pressing a hand to his shoulder. "It's okay! Breathe! You're safe!"
He arched violently, groaning, sweat beading his forehead. The fever had taken hold, making his injuries worse, amplifying his pain, dragging the nightmare into his mind with terrifying clarity. His body was drenched in cold sweat despite the heat in the room, and Leah's heart clenched at the sight.
The boy in the nightmare—green eyes, blindfold, trembling—mirrored Izana exactly. Every curve of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the small hisses of pain—they were the same. Leah realized, with a painful certainty, that this was a memory the curse was forcing Izana to relive. This was his first blindfold. This was the moment he had truly been claimed by the curse, the first time his power had hurt him beyond control.
"Stay with me, Izana," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I'm here. You're not alone."
The bed jolted again as he thrashed, and the monitors screamed in response. A nurse burst in, followed by a doctor, both shouting instructions over the rising alarm. "We need to stabilize him! Fever's spiking!"
Leah kept one hand on Izana's arm, her other smoothing back his sweat-soaked hair. "It's okay," she murmured, more to him than anyone else. "I'm right here. You're okay."
He whimpered, small and raw, trying to speak but failing. Only a shuddered, broken groan escaped him.
"His fever's too high," the doctor said urgently. "We need cooling blankets and IV fluids. Quickly!"
Leah's hands didn't leave him. She pressed herself closer to him, leaning into the side of the bed, grounding him with the faint pressure of her presence. "Breathe with me," she said, her voice soft but insistent. "In… and out… slowly…"
His shivering slowed slightly, the fever-pushed tremors softening, though his pain remained. The monitors still screamed, the alarms biting through the tense silence, but she ignored them for a moment. She could see the boy in the green-eyed vision again, overlaying the real Izana—pain, helplessness, and fear mirrored across sixteen years of torment.
"Please… don't leave me," Leah whispered, feeling her heart breaking. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay here."
Another groan escaped him. She noticed his lips part slightly, a tiny whimper of recognition, as if he had heard her words even through the fever and the nightmare. His hand twitched, brushing against hers briefly, and she clutched it tightly, unwilling to let go.
The medical team worked quickly, surrounding the bed now with blankets and equipment. Leah kept her voice low, almost a chant, coaxing him back from the memory, from the pain. "You're safe. You're here. It's me. It's me."
The green-eyed boy in her vision screamed once more, and then the vision broke, scattering like shards of glass in the night. Leah blinked rapidly, chest heaving. Izana's body settled slightly, though he still shivered violently, fever burning through him.
The doctor leaned close, checking his vitals. "He's responding," she said quietly. "But his fever is dangerous. If it spikes again, it could be fatal in his current condition."
Leah nodded, her hands still resting on him, refusing to let go. "I'll stay," she said simply. "I won't leave him."
Izana groaned again, a low, pained sound, his lips moving as though trying to speak. She kissed his temple, brushing damp hair back from his forehead. "I'm right here, Izana. It's okay. Breathe… just breathe."
His body gradually relaxed against the sheets, though his shivering remained. The monitors started to normalize slightly as the team worked, cooling his fever, stabilizing his vitals. But Leah didn't move. She stayed by his side, holding his hand, whispering small reassurances to him, even as exhaustion tugged at her body.
In the quiet moments, she could see the faint lines of his face beneath the white blindfold. His brow was furrowed, his jaw tight, his breaths shallow and uneven—but he was alive. And she had him. For now, that was all that mattered.
Even as the night stretched on, with monitors beeping and doctors whispering around her, Leah stayed. She was there for him, just as he had been her anchor in the warehouse. And though the nightmare had tried to claim them both, she would not allow it—not tonight, not ever.