Chapter 390: Heal Yourself
Morning came sooner than Zyren expected.
But instead of turning his attention to the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the window, his gaze remained fixed on Aria, who still lay fast asleep.
Her condition had not improved.
If anything, it was worse.
He had monitored her heartbeat throughout the entire night, never once closing his eyes, never once relaxing his focus. The rhythm had grown weaker with each passing hour, the sound thin and fragile in his ears.
Savira had remained in the room as well.
She had spent the night seated in a chair she had ordered the guards to bring, after instructing them to bury the fetus properly and place a headstone over the grave that would later be named.
A deep frown rested on her face.
Because she could tell.
Aria’s ability had not returned.
It should have.
That was what Savira had believed without a single doubt—that once the child was removed, Aria’s power would immediately begin repairing the damage to her body.
But it hadn’t.
And now the tension in the room had become suffocating.
Zyren’s eyes kept moving toward her.
Again.
And again.
Each glance sharp, heavy, filled with unspoken blame.
Savira’s fingers tightened around her cane.
After all, it had been her words that convinced him to cut the baby out.
Yet even she was confused.
Aria’s ability belonged to her. It was her power. There should have been no reason for it not to return.
Hours passed.
Savira remained seated in the shaded corner of the room, carefully positioned where the sunlight could not reach her skin.
Her grip on the cane grew tighter.
Because she knew.
If Aria’s condition worsened even slightly more... if she died...
Zyren would not hesitate.
He would drag Savira outside and let the sun burn her into ashes.
The silence pressed down on her ears.
But she did not dare break it.
Zyren looked like a man who preferred silence.
And while she sat there, her mind worked desperately, searching for something—anything—she could say if he asked the inevitable question.
Why hasn’t her ability returned?
But no answer came.
Aria lay motionless on the bed, her face so pale it was a miracle she was still breathing at all.
More hours passed.
Then finally—
Zyren spoke.
Savira straightened immediately.
She had been waiting for this moment.
"Give me one reason," he said slowly, his voice low and cold, "why I shouldn’t start by carving out your eyes."
Savira forced herself to stand, her body unsteady but her head bowing deeply.
She had lived long enough that death no longer frightened her.
But eternal pain?
That still did.
Especially when one was immortal.
"The only explanation I can think of," she said quietly, "is that Aria herself is preventing her ability from working."
She lowered her head even further.
It was the only conclusion she had been able to reach since morning.
Carefully, she glanced up.
And saw nothing but rage burning in Zyren’s eyes.
"You said that her ability—"
He stopped.
Because Aria moved.
It was barely noticeable.
Just the faintest shift.
But Zyren saw it instantly.
All his attention snapped back to her, concern flashing across his face—an expression Savira had never seen from him before.
Aria’s lips parted slightly, moving as though she were trying to speak.
"Water," Zyren ordered immediately.
Savira flinched.
Not because of the command.
Because of what it required.
To reach him, she would have to cross a strip of sunlight.
She hesitated for only a second.
Then she grabbed the jug and cup and walked forward.
The pain came before she even reached the bed.
The smell of burning flesh rose into the air.
Savira clenched her teeth and kept walking, handing the water to Zyren before quickly retreating back into the shade.
Half her face was already blackened and charred.
She did not complain.
The punishment was lighter than she had expected.
Unless this was only the beginning.
Zyren carefully helped Aria take a sip.
After swallowing, she struggled to speak.
"Savira... leave us."
Her voice was hoarse and barely audible.
She gestured weakly for Zyren to help her sit up, which he did immediately, supporting her with extreme care.
She didn’t look at him.
Not once.
Her eyes remained fixed on Savira.
Waiting.
Savira hesitated and glanced at Zyren.
He gave a small nod.
Permission.
She turned and walked toward the door, but not before noticing the look Aria gave her.
Hatred.
Cold and unmistakable.
Even through half-lowered eyelids.
My life is going to get much harder now, Savira thought bitterly as she stepped outside.
The door closed behind her.
The room fell silent.
Zyren spoke first.
He stood so Aria wouldn’t have to turn her head to see him.
"Heal yourself," he said firmly. "There’s no reason you shouldn’t be."
He already knew.
The only reason her ability hadn’t activated was because she was stopping it.
His anger toward Savira had only been an outlet for the storm inside him.
"Whatever you want to discuss," he continued, "we’ll talk about it once you’re fully recovered."
He watched her carefully.
He understood she was in pain.
What he didn’t understand... was why she would choose to remain like this.
Why she wouldn’t heal herself so they could move forward.
He kept talking—more than he normally would.
Explaining.
Justifying.
"You were dying," he said. "The baby wouldn’t have survived. It had to be removed."
His voice softened slightly.
"We can always try again."
To him, the logic was simple.
Clear.
Reasonable.
But what he didn’t understand—
What he could not understand—
Was Aria’s attachment to a child she had never even seen.
Zyren had lived too long.
Long enough for life and death to lose their weight.
Birth.
Death.
Loss.
Replacement.
All of it had become ordinary to him.
Routine.
Meaningless.
The only thing that had ever felt different...
The only thing he had ever considered truly special...
Was Aria.
And if anyone asked him why—
He wouldn’t have been able to explain it.
