Betty's POV. 

I must have drifted off for a moment because the next thing I heard was the rustle of robes and the soft hum of sacred magic.

My eyes snapped open.

The High Priestess stood at Damien’s bedside, her palm hovering above his chest, her expression grave.

Damien was awake, barely, staring numbly at the ceiling as though life had already slipped through his fingers.

“Your condition is worsening,” the High Priestess murmured, her voice low. “You don’t have much time left, ...