CHAPTER 331: WAKING

"I thought you sent her a message! Why isn’t she here yet?"

Violet’s voice carried too much sharpness, too much strain to be mistaken for simple impatience. It was a question born of hours of stillness, of pacing the same worn stretch of floorboards, of watching Cain sink deeper into whatever state had claimed him. Her words lashed through the thick quiet like a whip.

Night had already folded itself over the world beyond the windows. The room, closed off from any moonlight, glowed only in the unsteady reach of a single candle burning low on the table beside the bed. The flame shivered each time the air shifted, scattering distorted shadows over the walls and across the floorboards.

Cain lay perfectly motionless on the bed. That stillness was what made Violet’s skin crawl the most. His chest rose so faintly that she found herself holding her own breath just to be sure she could see it move. His lips had bled of all color, taking on a faint bluish pallor. And his skin—cold, pale, almost translucent—looked wrong. Not just sickly. Wrong.

"You sent for her?" she demanded again, swinging her gaze toward Uva.

"I did." Uva’s voice was quieter than the candle’s hiss. Her hands were laced together in front of her, her fingers twisting against each other as though she needed the movement to keep them from shaking. She stood near the foot of the bed, her eyes fixed firmly on Cain. "She’ll come. We just... have to wait."

Violet barked a humorless laugh. "Wait? You think he has time for that?" She gestured sharply toward the bed, her arm cutting through the air. "Look at him! You think hours from now he’ll still be lying there with a chance to be saved?"

Uva’s gaze stayed on Cain. "And what exactly would you do instead? Run out into the dark and shout for help? There’s no one else who can do what she does. If you try finding someone else, you’ll waste what little time he has."

"She’s already wasting what little time she has!" Violet snapped even as Uva simply sighed.

Uva took a slow, frustrated step closer, lowering her voice but not the heat behind it. "Moreover, you talk about her like she’s some pure, selfless saint. Saints don’t trade in the kind of power she has." She said with an underlying warning in her tone.

Violet’s head lifted at that, her jaw tightening. "She’s helped people before right? She demanded a price but she’s willing to help! You said she’s your friend!"

"That’s the problem," Uva said coldly. "You trust her too much. Blindly."

The air between them thickened with unspoken accusations. The candle popped softly as wax shifted down its side. Uva’s lips pressed together in a thin, colorless line.

"Are you going to tell me how untrustworthy witches are and how I shouldn’t trust you too?," Violet finally asked.

"It’s not paranoia when I’ve seen what trust buys people," Uva replied. "It buys them debt. Or graves."

"Look at him! Does it seem like I have a choice?" violet quietly asked in a low whisper.

For a long moment, neither moved. The room’s silence was so complete that even Cain’s shallow breathing seemed loud. Violet was about to push the argument further when the sound came—slow, deliberate footsteps from behind them.

The door hadn’t opened but she had simply walked in to both their shock.

The steps had weight, each one evenly spaced, deliberate. Not hurried. Not hesitant.

She seemed to bring the night with her, wrapped in a heavy cloak that drank in the candlelight. Her silver-streaked hair was drawn back in a severe knot, revealing a face that carried no trace of warmth one eerily similar to Violet’s own. Her gaze swept the room once, cool and assessing, before settling on Cain.

Neither Violet nor Uva spoke. Violet’s surprise at seeing her was sharp—she hadn’t truly believed the woman would appear at all. But Uva’s reaction was different. She went still, the faintest hitch breaking her steady breathing. Something almost like guilt—or fear—passed through her expression.

"Where is he?" Lady June’s voice was low, even, but it pressed down on the air like weight.

Violet gestured toward the bed. "Here. He hasn’t moved. His breathing is shallow. His skin—"

"I see it," Lady June interrupted.

She moved to the bed, her presence altering the space around her, as though the room itself leaned to make way. She studied Cain for a long moment without speaking, then reached inside her cloak. From it she drew a narrow glass vial.

The liquid inside was thick, dark, and crimson. It caught the candlelight in an unnatural shimmer, rich and heavy like clotting blood.

Violet’s voice was careful. "What is that?"

"Something to keep him here," Lady June replied, uncorking the vial. A faint metallic scent lifted into the room, sharp enough to sting the back of Violet’s throat. "If he slips too far, nothing will bring him back. This will stop that from ever happening."

She slid one arm beneath Cain’s head and lifted it with a practiced ease that suggested she had done this many times before. His head sagged limply in her grasp, lips parted but unresponsive. She pressed the vial to his mouth, tilting it just enough for the dark liquid to touch his tongue.

Uva took an unconscious step forward. Her lips parted as though to speak, her brow furrowed. But she stopped herself. Slowly, her mouth closed again, her hands shifting behind her back to hide the way they trembled.

Violet’s eyes cut toward her sharply. What? she mouthed.

Uva shook her head quickly, her gaze darting to Lady June.

Cain swallowed weakly. Lady June’s hand was steady, her movements precise as she coaxed the rest of the vial’s contents into his mouth. The thick liquid slid down his throat with a faint sound that seemed too loud in the silence.

When it was done, she lowered him back onto the pillow. His breathing remained shallow, but something about his face shifted—less strain in his jaw, a faint hint of color just beneath the skin. Lady June recorked the vial, tucking it back beneath her cloak.

Violet’s voice was a low demand. "What did you just give him?"

Lady June met her eyes with the stillness of stone. "A promise," she said. "By morning, he will wake."

The certainty in her tone should have been a relief. Instead, it crawled over Violet’s skin.

Lady June’s gaze sharpened, focusing fully on her. "But when he does, Violet, you will fulfill the contract we agreed to."

Violet straightened. "And if I don’t?"

A shadow of a smile touched Lady June’s lips. "Then you will learn quickly that saving a life has a cost. I do not chase debts. You will keep your word."

The words were not a threat—they were an inevitability.

She looked back to Cain, her expression unreadable. "When the sun rises, his eyes will open. And when they do, your word will bind you more tightly than any chain."

Lady June turned to leave, her cloak whispering across the floorboards. At the door, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

"Do not mistake my patience for weakness," she said softly, her tone carrying an edge like a drawn blade. "By morning, Violet... the choice will no longer be yours."

Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

Silence reclaimed the room. The candlelight trembled against the walls, and Violet stared at the door long after it had closed. Only then did she look back at Uva.

"What were you going to say before she came in?"

Uva hesitated. Her gaze shifted toward Cain, then to the floor. She swallowed hard. "Nothing," she said finally.

But the word was too heavy. Too careful.

And Violet knew—it was a lie.

The night passed in slow, uneven stretches of silence.

Violet had drifted in and out of shallow sleep in the chair beside Cain’s bed, her chin sinking to her chest only to jerk awake again moments later. Every time her eyes fluttered open, she checked him. Still breathing. Still motionless. The candle had burned itself out sometime before dawn, leaving the room cloaked in a pale, early light that slid through the narrow window.

She sat forward, her arms draped across her knees, staring at him. Lady June’s words refused to leave her mind.

By morning, he will wake.

By morning... the choice will no longer be yours.

Violet wasn’t sure if she feared those words more than she clung to them.

It was only when she heard the faintest shift of fabric that her head lifted sharply. Cain’s fingers twitched against the blanket.

"Cain?"

It was almost too quiet to be a real word, but she leaned closer anyway, scanning his face.

His eyelids moved—just a flicker at first, then slowly, heavily, they opened. His gaze was unfocused, clouded as if he were peering through water. She caught her breath when his eyes landed on her.

"You’re..." He tried to speak, but his voice rasped into nothing.

Violet’s heart gave a painful jolt. "You’re awake." She reached for the cup of water on the table, guiding it to his lips. "Don’t talk yet. Just drink."

He obeyed, swallowing in small, unsteady gulps.

Uva stirred from where she had sat curled in the far corner of the room. Her eyes widened the instant she realized what had happened. "He’s awake?"

Violet nodded, but her attention stayed locked on Cain. She watched color begin to return to his skin—subtle, but enough to ease some of the tightness in her chest.

For a moment, the relief threatened to overwhelm her. But beneath it, the unease remained, untouched.

Because Lady June had been right. He had woken. Exactly as she had said.

And that meant the rest of her words—the choice will no longer be yours—were no less true.

Cain tried to push himself up, but the effort left him trembling. Violet pressed a hand lightly against his shoulder. "Easy. You need to rest."

"What... happened?" His voice was hoarse, his brow furrowing as his gaze flicked between them.