CHAPTER 108: IT’S FINE TO SHOW WEAKNESS

"The wounds don’t seem to be healing at all. I’ve stopped the bleeding and done some stitches, but he’s not recovering," Keigan said grimly.

I stood beside Raye and Rion, staring at Jeron’s still form on the bed. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, the sound of each inhale fragile, like it could be his last.

Keigan sat at his side, his hands folded, the lamplight catching the unnatural colors of his mismatched eyes. He looked tired, far older than usual, as if this single patient was wearing him down more than a dozen others ever had.

Ares and Diaval had left the Undercity last night to search for remedies aboveground. The room felt emptier without them.

"What’s worse," Keigan continued, his voice low, "I just discovered why. These wounds... they’re laced with an unknown kind of poison. In my decades of existence, I’ve never seen anything like it before."

My stomach clenched, and I felt the blood drain from my face. Poison. That explained why Jeron’s skin remained clammy, why his pulse felt so faint, why the stitches seemed to hold nothing together.

Beside me, Raye broke into silent tears. Her shoulders trembled, but she tried to keep her voice quiet, not wanting to disturb Jeron’s fragile rest.

I reached out instinctively and rested my palm on her back, rubbing gently, hoping to offer at least a little comfort. She leaned into me ever so slightly, her weight warm but trembling.

I wished I could say something reassuring, but no words came. My chest tightened painfully at the sight of her grief.

Later that day, the Undercity buzzed with preparations for the Moon Festival’s second night. The Moon Hunt, one of the most anticipated events, would take place that evening.

The city would have felt electric, the air alive with laughter and competition. But I couldn’t feel any of it. Not excitement. Not joy. Just a dull ache in my chest.

Instead of Raye overseeing the event as she usually did, Rion had instructed his council to take charge in her place. She hadn’t left Jeron’s side since the attack, and I didn’t think anyone expected her to.

Ares and Diaval had intended to join the Hunt, but with them gone aboveground, I doubted they’d make it back in time.

By the afternoon, I found myself restless and aching for something I could do—anything, no matter how small. So I cooked.

The castle kitchens had grown familiar enough that I moved with confidence, chopping vegetables, seasoning broth, kneading dough. It wasn’t much, but it was something I could put my heart into, something I hoped might ease Raye’s pain, even if only for a moment.

When I carried the tray to her bedroom, she opened the door with red-rimmed eyes. She tried to act tough, straightening her back and forcing a smile, but it was clear she’d been crying again.

"It’s fine not to be always strong, you know. It’s fine to show weakness," I told her gently.

Her shoulders sagged as if those words stripped away the armor she had been clinging to.

She sank onto the bed, staring at her hands. "If I’m not strong, then what am I, Vivien?" Her voice was a whisper.

I set the tray down and sat beside her, taking her hand. "Then you’re a normal person. We can’t carry everything all the time. It doesn’t make you weak to grieve. It makes you real. It means you truly care."

Her lips trembled, and for the first time that day, she let herself lean against me, her head resting on my shoulder.

"Jeron is not just one of the people I like in the city. He’s like a family to me, just like how Ares, Diaval, and the Alpha are. I’ve know him for many years, and to see him in such a state... it reminds me of what happened to my family back then."

I just realized we had never talked about this yet. About her family. I thought I shouldn’t ask, or more like I was afraid. I knew that Raye was different, an Avian shifter, and being someone so different, I assumed her life before Undercity was too difficult, and I didn’t want to pry on her scars so I never asked.

"My adoptive family was killed brutally, and if it weren’t for Rion, I would have been dead. Seeing Jeron in his situation right now reminded me of all that."

I held her as she cried, and I silently prayed that Ares and Diaval would return with something—anything—that could help Jeron.

When night fell, I found myself in the castle’s tower, the one parallel to Rion’s. The wind was cool against my face, carrying the sounds of life from the city below.

The Undercity glowed with lanterns strung across its streets, shadows of dancers moving in the plazas, music rising faintly like smoke.

The Moon Festival was alive and joyous, but I felt none of it. My chest was heavy, my spirit dimmed.

I leaned on the stone railing, staring down at the city’s glittering veins of light. I didn’t have the energy to join them, not when Raye was breaking and Jeron lay poisoned in Keigan’s care.

The sound of quiet footsteps behind me pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned and saw Vincent approaching, a tray balanced neatly in his hands.

"The Alpha said you forgot to eat lunch and dinner," he said, his voice polite but firm, his expression as stoic as ever. "So I brought you these."

He placed the tray on a small table near me. A bowl of steaming soup, roasted meat, fresh bread, and a small dish of fruit.

"Please eat, Miss Vivien," he added, inclining his head slightly.

My throat tightened. I didn’t notice that I hadn’t eaten anything since noon. I didn’t feel the hunger, or maybe I just went numb. I was worried for Jeron, and for all Diaj people in this continent, if Rion’s words last night were true.

"Thanks, Vincent," I said softly.