Chapter 11

Aurelia POV

The next three days were pure, unadulterated hell.

My body burned in a relentless, low-grade fever, entirely spent from the violent aconite purge. It was a blurred passage of time where reality and memory bled together into a dark haze. My muscles throbbed with a deep, bone-dry ache, and cold sweat clung to my skin, making the sheets stick to my chest whenever the chills took over.

In the quiet hours between medication doses, the ghosts of my past came for me.

I dreamed of Draven’s estate—the heavy velvet curtains keeping out the sun, the suffocating stench of sweet jasmine masking the bitter tang of null-iron, and the silver tray he brought to my bed every evening. In my fevered mind, I was back in his study, listening to his soft, persuasive voice echoing in the gloom.

"Drink it, Aurelia. You’re too fragile for this world. Without me, they will tear you apart."

In the dream, I tried to pull back, but his iron