Chapter 254: Fevered Whispers

The walk back to the medical facility was short, but Orion felt every second scraping against his nerves. He followed Rita in silence, his long strides easily matching her hurried steps. The storm clouds had finally drifted away beyond the ridge, leaving the air cold and clean, the ground damp. Meltwater and rainwater still streaked the stone paths of the pack lands, gathering into shallow streams that threaded around boots and foundations.

Pack members whispered and pointed at the odd combination of rainwater and unmelted snow.

Rita pushed open the door to the medical facility, the familiar scent of herbs, antiseptic, and warmth rushing out to greet them. The place buzzed with quiet activity, and as soon as Orion stepped inside, Marta appeared as if she’d been waiting by the door.

"There you are." She didn’t waste time. "Come with me."

Before he could ask, she slipped her hand around his wrist—firm, urgent—and tugged him down the hallway.

He stiffened. Orion didn’t say anything at all, even if he felt a bit unsettled at the way she was behaving right now.

She stopped once they reached the corridor outside Sophia’s room. Marta checked both ends of the hallway, ensuring no healers lingered within earshot. Only when she was satisfied did she turn fully toward him.

"Something’s wrong."

Orion’s blood went cold. "What do you mean? Is there something else wrong with Sophia? Or maybe Brynhild?" he asked her.

Marta shook her head. "It’s not Brynhild, exactly like you thought. It’s Sophia. The fever... it presented like a normal one at first, and I thought it was a normal one, but her body is burning up right now. And... she’s having hallucinations."

Orion blinked, the word hitting him sharper than expected. "Hallucinations?"

"Yes." Marta hooked her thumbs into her apron pockets and leaned forward slightly. "She’s seeing things that aren’t there. Talking to people who aren’t in the room. And the words are... jumbled. Half-formed. I couldn’t make sense of most of it."

He stared at her, trying to understand, trying to piece together how a fever could escalate so quickly.

"Is it possible for a fever to escalate that quickly?" Orion asked her.

"I’ve never seen a situation like this at all," Marta told him.

Marta must have seen the panic flicker across his eyes. She sighed and softened slightly.

"I thought you should know," she said. "And besides—" her mouth twitched up into something almost mischievous, "—if you’re the one who sits with her, you might earn some bonus points with her."

Orion chuckled even if his mind spiraled with worry for Sophia.

He gave Marta a stiff nod. "Thank you for telling me."

She motioned toward the door. "Go. She’s still asleep—mostly. In and out, really."

He stepped inside.

The room was dim despite the daylight filtering through the drawn curtains. The hearth burned fast, sending warmth through the room. Sophia lay on the bed faced upright. Her hair was damp against her temples, breaths shaky and uneven. Her skin was flushed, and she looked red, which signified how much her body burned from the fever.

Orion felt the shift in his chest instantly—the way concern dug its claws into him, the way everything else he’d done today suddenly felt insignificant.

He pulled the stool close to the bed and sat, his knees brushing the edge of the mattress.

Marta leaned in behind him and gave his shoulder a light tap. "Just so you know, I’m still rooting for you two," she whispered.

Orion nodded. "Thank you. Can you give me some time alone with her?"

"Of course." With a sharp pivot, Marta left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Orion turned fully toward Sophia. The sight of her this vulnerable—pale, trembling, brow furrowed even in unconsciousness—hit him somewhere deep.

He reached out and brushed her hair away from her forehead.

The instant his fingers touched her skin, Sophia flinched.

He froze.

Her lips parted, and a soft, broken whisper slipped out. "I’m sorry..."

Orion frowned. Sorry? He could not understand why she would be sorry at all.

"Why are you sorry, shorty?" he asked her.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were barely open, hazy and unfocused, staring through him rather than at him.

"Sophia." He leaned closer, trying to catch her murmurs. "What do you mean?"

Her fingers twitched weakly in the sheets, clutching at nothing. "Didn’t mean to... I won’t do it again..."

Orion blinked, feeling something sharp twist in his chest. He didn’t understand. Didn’t understand any of it.

Then her voice cracked again, barely audible. "My... friends..."

Orion frowned. Everything about what was going on was confusing to him. What friends? Dren and the others she related with were perfectly okay, Brynhild was okay too, but the way she said it... like she was worried?

He reached for her hand again, but gently this time, giving her time to adjust. She didn’t flinch again, but she clung weakly to his fingers like she was drowning.

"Hey," he murmured, voice deep and soft. "You’re here with me, shorty..."

She wasn’t listening. Or maybe she couldn’t.

"Didn’t mean to... shouldn’t’ve... I’m sorry... I’m sorry..."

Every apology sounded like it was pulled from her bones.

This wasn’t normal.

Orion inhaled slowly, letting the breath settle in his chest before standing from the stool. He needed answers. Real ones. Not guesses. And not while Sophia suffered alone in this confusion.

He squeezed her hand once before gently lowering it back onto the blanket.

"I’ll be right back."

She didn’t respond except for a faint shiver.

Orion backed away from the bed, eyes still fixed on her flushed face, her trembling lips, the pain etched into her features even in sleep.

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way it felt—like something unseen had its grip on her mind. Like she was fighting something he couldn’t see, couldn’t touch, couldn’t protect her from.

He opened the door quietly and stepped into the hallway.

His expression had already hardened.

He needed Marta. Or Lysander. Someone who could tell him exactly what was happening right now... Lysander was the better choice.