The seconds stretched into an agonizing silence. The only sound in the room was the father's ragged, desperate whispering as he prayed to every deity he could name, his forehead pressed against the edge of the mattress.
Johnn stood perfectly still, his eyes darting between the girl's still face and the glowing flower, his hands clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
One minute passed. Then two.
The light from the Bloom continued to pulse, but the girl remained as cold as stone. The father's prayers slowly turned into broken sobs. He looked up at Johnn, his face twisted in a mask of betrayal.
"It's not working. The rumor... it was just a story. Or maybe... maybe this flower is… No—Why isn't she waking up?!"
Johnn stepped back, his face falling as the weight of failure hit him.
"I... I don't understand. The mana, the light... it felt so real."
