The room was heavy with the metallic scent of blood. Yenissa lay on the bed, her face pale as moonlight, her breaths shallow and ragged. A deep wound marred her side, refusing to close despite her body's natural healing abilities. Blood soaked the sheets, pooling beneath her, and her eyes flickered with fading consciousness. Shennong stood over her, his face etched with worry as he examined the gash. His hands hovered over the wound, but he didn't touch it—something about it felt wrong.
Cassandra stood nearby, her arms crossed tightly, her eyes darting between Yenissa and Shennong. Rilith and Velara, the twin seers, lingered at the edge of the room, their expressions grim as they whispered to each other.
"This isn't normal," Shennong said, his voice low but firm. "She should've healed by now. Her kind always does. But this wound… it's no ordinary cut."
Cassandra stepped closer, her voice trembling slightly. "What do you mean, Shennong? What's wrong with her?"
