The pristine glass syringe sat quietly on the stainless steel tray, catching the soft morning light. The rose-gold liquid within glowed with a faint, steady luminescence—so small, so unassuming, yet holding the terrifyingly immense weight of weeks of exhaustion, blood, and desperate prayer.
"Baseline bloodwork is pristine, Your Grace," Dr. Andrew declared, stepping back into the exam room while setting a crisp manila folder on the counter. His expression was sharp and decisive, a rare, relaxed warmth breaking through his usual clinical demeanor. "Metabolic markers are stable, renal function is clear, and her vitals are as strong as we could possibly hope for given the circumstances. Perfect. I think we can start."
Sam let out a long, ragged exhale, his broad shoulders dropping an inch as
