Robert stood over the bed, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Since the Demon Lord and Hannah had departed for the Deadmore Forest, the weight of the silence had become a physical pressure, a suffocating reminder of his isolation.
He looked down at the mermaid. In her human form, she was a masterpiece of fragile, haunting beauty. Her skin was the color of crushed pearls, shimmering with a faint, iridescent sheen that seemed to catch the dying violet light of the lanterns. Her long, silken hair—the color of deep-sea kelp and midnight—was spread across the pillow like a dark halo. But her lips were pale, almost blue, and her chest moved with an erratic, agonizing hitch.
"I can't let you fade," Robert whispered, his voice cracking in the hollow room. "I'm an assistant, a man of science... there must be a mechanical solution."
