Page 36 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts (Hospital for Immortal Creatures #3)

Amelia

A single glance was enough for Amelia to recognise that the being before her was no ordinary creature.

He shut the door behind him and stepped into the dimly lit room, letting the candlelight partly illuminate his figure – all taut muscles and an air of refinement.

A black shirt clung to his frame, paired with dark jeans that gave him a modern, urban edge.

His black hair shimmered with a bluish sheen, with short strands falling over honey-coloured eyes.

His features radiated strength, elegance, and beauty.

Yet Amelia wasn’t impressed.

Callan surveyed the room, lingering briefly on her torn dress.

Under different circumstances, she might have felt shame at being caught almost naked by a stranger.

She might also have worried that this stranger was a firstborn.

Perhaps even feared that the man she’d considered one of her greatest threats had found her.

She huddled further into the rough blanket she clutched around her, saying, “Now isn’t the best time for a conversation.”

Callan tilted his head. “I suppose this has something to do with the manticore who fled the room as though he’d met his worst nightmare?” His voice was rich, but not as deep as Mikhail’s. “If I’m not mistaken, you and Mikhail Korovin have unresolved issues?”

Her silence did not deter him. As a firstborn, he was probably used to the idea that everything was his by birthright, including her space, when she needed solitude most.

“Allow me to apologise sincerely for drinking your blood without your consent,” he said.

Amelia rose with as much elegance as she could muster, given her naked state, and approached him. The portrait in the Queen’s chambers had captured only a fraction of his true charisma.

“Apparently, during your slumber in that sarcophagus, you forgot that an apology doesn’t undo the brutal violation of another being,” she said.

He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. “If I’d asked politely, would you have allowed me to drink your blood?”

She might have laughed, but even that required more energy than she possessed. “No.”

Callan smirked. “You remind me of her.”

“Who?”

“A witch I once knew. She never bowed to anyone, and especially not to beings capable of burying her beneath mountains.”

Amelia tapped her foot, impatience creeping in. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m paying you a compliment. I find you remarkable. Raised as a human, the heir to an extraordinary witch’s bloodline. Gifted with the ability to connect to the Seven Sacreds.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.

” Though she wasn’t afraid of him, that didn’t mean it was wise not to be.

Pretending ignorance about the Sacreds seemed her safest option.

Her curiosity about the other part of his claim, however, was harder to suppress.

“And the fact that you’re speaking of a witch’s bloodline shows you’ve mistaken me for someone else. ”

“Do you think an ordinary human could connect to the Sacreds?” Callan pulled his hand from his pocket, revealing a golden object resting in his palm.

Her pulse quickened with excitement. The watch. Callan’s watch. The sight of it stirred something deep in her chest – a strange blend of recognition and longing.

“Should this object mean anything to me?” she asked.

His expression suggested he could read her like an open book. “Your lips lie beautifully, but your eyes betray you. They lit up the moment they recognised it.”

Amelia shrugged, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “Perhaps the gold of your trinket reflected in them.”

“Isn’t this the pocket watch you were searching for on the Queen’s behalf?”

She said nothing.

“Relax, witch. I know you’re not allied with the reptilians.”

Witch. The name sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her that Mikhail had called her the same. “You have no idea what I am.”

The daring fire within him burned brighter than the candles’ flames. “Is there a more fitting title for a being like you?” Now it was being . Another label that had sounded offensive from Mikhail’s lips. “You’re tense. I expected our first meeting to unfold differently.”

“This is our second meeting. After our first, you left me unconscious.” She brushed past him towards the door. “Excuse me while I find some clothes.” As she walked by, something powerful and invisible stirred around him, expanding to fill the entire room.

“You’ll soon realise that with my help, getting the Sacreds will be much easier,” he said.

A faint breeze caressed her skin. She turned back to Callan. Since he was so eager to see her cards on the table, she would pretend to lay them down for him. “And then? How do you propose we share them?”

“You’re the Oracle. You decide what becomes of them.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you’re offering your help without expecting anything in return?”

His dark eyebrows arched. “I never do anything without expecting something in return – least of all from someone as captivating as you.”

The air around him thickened, coalescing into white vapours that shrouded his form. Within seconds, he vanished.

***

Amelia

Amelia walked out into the corridor, paying attention to her surroundings for the first time since she’d awakened. Age had worn down the walls, causing paint to peel. Cobwebs clustered in the corners. The wooden planks beneath her feet were rotting, creaking ominously with each step.

She retreated to her room. The bed linens carried a faint, comforting scent of cleanliness. Someone had gone to the trouble of offering her this slight reprieve.

Her dark thoughts eased a bit. She still had friends. Beings worth fighting for.

Mikhail may have forgotten her, but he remembered his cause.

For the Hospital’s sake, he was contemplating an alliance with Callan.

A bitter weight settled in her chest. Until now, she hadn’t allowed herself to process what his memory loss meant – hadn’t faced the full ache of being erased from his life.

But this was the moment it sank in. Whatever love they might have shared, whatever bond once tethered them, it no longer existed.

No matter how much it hurt, she couldn’t depend on this version of him to stand by her.

He’d stayed true to his goal, and she was no longer part of it.

So, she had to focus on her own mission – to gather the Sacreds and uncover more about the witch’s bloodline, which the firstborn had alluded to.

Sitting on the bed, she let the knowledge within her unravel.

A cascade of alien sensations assaulted her senses – millions of fragmented experiences.

Yet, she didn’t recoil from their overwhelming intensity.

For the first time, the cacophony of sounds, images, thoughts, and emotions was better than reality.

She spent the night this way, suspended in a state between dreaming and existing within the unbridled realm of sensory perceptions. She never lit the candles someone – probably Viktor – had left for her next to a box of matches.