"You have to listen to me."
Camille's voice was barely a whisper, a fragile thread breaking through the thick silence of the healer's chamber. She sat on the edge of the worn cot, clutching a faded leather journal close to her chest as if it were the only thing holding her fractured world together. Her fingers trembled, tracing the embossed cover like a desperate prayer. The candlelight flickered softly, casting wavering shadows on the cold stone walls, shadows that seemed to dance with the ghosts of secrets long buried.
Savannah leaned closer, her eyes sharp and unwavering, searching for any sign of deceit in the pale face before her. But there was none. Only pain, exhaustion, and the weight of a truth too heavy for one person to carry alone.
"Tell me everything," Savannah urged, her voice steady but gentle, the kind that could coax a dying ember back to life.
