FELDA

I no longer knew what was wrong.

He should have opened his eyes by now. He should have been standing on his feet, breathing, alive.

But he wasn’t.

Daze still lay there... pale, still, and cold like a statue carved by the gods themselves. My chest hurt every time I looked at him. Every second that passed made me feel like I was losing him.

He was strong. A warrior. A fighter.

But I could see his strength fading. His soul was slipping away, and I could feel it like the moon pulling the ...