Chapter 175: Are they like my husband?
~Third POV~
Isla stared at Raphael's face. Her mind raced. What if it doesn't work? What if I'm not strong enough? She'd saved them before, but this felt different. This felt desperate.
She looked at Drogon's torn body. Despite everything, despite her fear of Raphael, she couldn't watch him die like this.
Raphael's thoughts were darker, he was fed up. Come on, he urged silently. Do it. Save him. Because if you don't, I'll have to face Ava knowing I let her guardian die. Those were his only fear. He refuses to admit that he was worried about him.
Gemma watched, thinking how brave Isla was being. Isla finally drew her dagger. The steel shook in her hand. She'd done this before, but it never got easier hurting herself to heal others.
She had only done that for Raphael because of her selfish goals. She sliced her wrist in one moment and she hissed in pain.
Blood welled up immediately. Darker red than normal blood. It seemed to glow as it dripped down her fingers. She collected it in a bowl Gemma had found.
The bowl filled slowly. Each drop felt heavy with power. This has to work, Isla thought. It has to.
She offered the bowl wordlessly to Raphael. Her face was pale but determined.
Raphael took the bowl. His heart pounded. He knelt beside Drogon's massive head. The dragon's good eye was closed. His breathing was barely audible.
Raphael dipped his fingers into the blood. It felt warm, almost hot. He touched the dragon's lips gently.
The moment the blood made contact, Drogon groaned. His body shivered like it was on fire. The sound echoed through the temple.
Drogon's mind, which had been growing dark, suddenly fired with awareness. The strange blood burned through him. He could feel it fighting against the poison in his wounds. Alasia's curses tried to push back, but Isla's blood was stronger.
At least for now.
Raphael continued working. He wiped blood along the deep slashes on Drogon's neck and sides. His fingers traced the torn edges of the dragon's wings, leaving trails of glowing red.
When he reached the punctured eye socket, Raphael hesitated. The wound was deep and ugly, filled with dark blood and infection.
Just do it, he told himself. He's already blind in that eye anyway.
He dipped his fingers in the bowl again and gently touched the destroyed eye. Drogon's body shook, but he didn't cry out. The dragon's thoughts were a mix of pain and gratitude he refused to show.
Slowly, the bleeding began to slow. The worst gashes stopped gushing blood onto the floor. The torn flesh along his wings pulled together slightly.
But the wounds did not close fully. The deep cuts remained open, still seeking blood. The eye socket stopped bleeding but remained ruined.
Isla watched with growing concern. Her blood had always worked completely before. It had closed wounds, healed broken bones, even brought people back from death's door.
"It's stalling the decay," she said, her voice hoarse with worry.
She stared at the half-healed wounds, confusion and fear mixing in her mind. Why isn't it working properly? What did that woman do to him?
"But she must have used something evil," Isla continued. "This is the first time that my blood doesn't close a wound completely. Look, I am already healed." She showed her hands to Raphael. Scared he would blame her.
Raphael looked up at her, then back at Drogon. The dragon was breathing easier now, but he was still dying. Just slower.
Drogon's good eye opened slightly. He could feel the others watching him, could sense their worry and fear. Part of him wanted to comfort them, but a larger part just felt tired.
So tired of fighting. So tired of pain. And so tired of the yearning in his soul.
"You should've let me die," he whispered.
The words hit everyone differently. Gemma felt tears spring to her eyes. Caleb's jaw tightened with anger. Isla looked stricken, like she'd failed somehow.
But Raphael's reaction was the strongest. His mind filled with a cold, deliberate anger. Not at Drogon, but at the situation. At Alasia. At the unfairness of it all.
He leaned closer to the dragon, his voice quiet but a dangerous threat.
"And if I had, who would I have left to protect her? I will return you to Ava and your mate safe and sound."
Drogon's thoughts stirred at the mention of his mate And Ava. Images flashed through his mind - memories he'd tried to bury. People who mattered. People who needed him.
But his pride rebelled against accepting help. Against showing weakness.
"I don't need your help," he murmured grudgingly, though something in his chest warmed at Raphael's words.
Raphael's eyes flashed. His thoughts turned dark and he only wanted to hurt. This stubborn dragon was going to live whether he wanted to or not. He thought.
"You can bleed, you can burn, however, you will heal," Raphael said, his voice carrying absolute certainty. "But you don't die on me. You hear me?"
.
Drogon stared at him with his remaining eye. In Raphael's face, he saw something he hadn't expected. Not just malice, but genuine care. Hidden beneath layers of anger and frustration, but real.
The others watched this exchange in silence. Gemma thought about how much Raphael had changed since they'd started this journey.
Caleb wondered if it was the same Raphael that he knows. Isla just gazed at them, wondering if they were like her husband that likes men.
"Why?" Drogon asked finally. His voice was stronger now, though still weak. "Why do you care if I live or die?"
Raphael was quiet for a moment. His thoughts were complex, full of things he didn't want to admit. Guilt over their past conflicts. Fear of losing someone else he cared about.
"Because," he said finally, "someone has to."
It wasn't the whole truth, but it was enough.
Drogon closed his eye again. The blood was still working through his system, fighting against the curses. It hurt, but it was a different kind of hurt. A healing hurt instead of a dying one.
"The witch," he said suddenly. "I remember now. She lives to the east. Near a lake shaped like a crescent moon."
"How far?" Raphael asked.
"Two days. Maybe three." Drogon's breathing was steadier now. "She's old. She might know how to break what Alasia did to me."
Raphael nodded. They had a destination now.
"Then we rest tonight," he said. "And tomorrow we start moving."
He looked around at the others. All of them tired, all of them scared, but all of them still fighting.
"We're going to save him," he said. "And then we're going home."
In his mind, he added silently: And then we're going to make Alasia pay for what she's done.
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