The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting shadows across Lily's face that made her look even more fragile than she already was. Two days. Forty-eight hours of sitting in this chair, holding her hand, willing her to open her eyes.

Nothing.

*She's too still,* Lucas whined in my mind. *Even her scent is... fading.*

"Don't." I squeezed Lily's fingers gently, searching for any sign of response. "Don't say that."

But Lucas was right. The vibrant warmth that had drawn me to her was ...