Seraphina knew something was wrong before she saw it.

Love sharpened intuition into paranoia eventually.

Lucien smiled too often now.

Not fake smiles exactly.

Careful ones.

The kind people wore while trying desperately not to become another source of pain for someone already drowning.

He also stopped arguing.

That frightened her more than anything.

Lucien used to challenge every reckless idea she had with infuriating patience and painfully logical concern.

Now?

Now he agreed too quickly.

Yielded too easily.

Like preserving peace mattered more than winning discussions because somewhere deep inside him he’d already started treating their time together as limited.

God.

She hated how clearly she could see it now.

The rebel base relocated again after the monastery attack.

This time to an abandoned mountain rail station buried beneath northern Switzerland where old Cold War tunnels connected deep underground networks large enough hiding entire refugee populations.

The station smelled like rust, damp stone, coffee, and exhaustion.

Home, apparently.

War blurred days strangely.

One moment Seraphina stood coordinating evacuation routes beside former Blackthorn officers.

The next she found herself waking beside Lucien beneath emergency blankets wondering how many more mornings remained before Doom finally consumed him completely.

Nobody said the fear aloud anymore.

Which somehow made it louder.

The discovery happened accidentally.

Of course it did.

Real devastation rarely arrived ceremonially.

Seraphina entered the lower medical storage room sometime after midnight searching for antibiotics after a refugee infection outbreak started spreading through the western tunnels.

The station generators flickered weakly overhead while distant train tracks groaned occasionally beneath underground wind currents.

She expected empty shelves.

Instead she found blood.

Black blood.

Fresh.

Her entire body went cold instantly.

No.

The trail led toward the back treatment rooms hidden behind old surgical curtains.

Seraphina followed it automatically before fear fully processed into thought.

Then she heard him coughing.

God.

Not normal coughing.

Wrong.

Wet.

Violent enough sounding like his body was tearing itself apart internally.

Seraphina shoved through the curtain immediately.

Lucien looked up from the sink too late.

Black blood coated the porcelain basin.

More stained the front of his shirt.

His gloves lay discarded beside scattered medical syringes and ruined bandages while the corruption spread visibly across nearly half his throat now.

No.

No no no.

Seraphina stopped moving entirely.

Lucien straightened too quickly after seeing her there.

Caught.

Again.

And suddenly every lie from the past few weeks rearranged themselves inside her chest sharp enough to cut.

“You said it wasn’t getting worse.”

Lucien opened his mouth.

Stopped.

Because there was nothing left protecting the lie now.

The room felt horribly quiet.

Only the faint hum of generators and Lucien’s uneven breathing filling the space between them.

Seraphina stared at the blood.

At the syringes.

At the medical notes spread across the counter in his handwriting.

Daily symptom progression.

Neurological deterioration.

Feeding instability.

Projected systemic collapse.

God.

He tracked his own death privately.

The realization hollowed her instantly.

“How long?” she whispered.

Lucien looked exhausted beyond language now.

“Seraphina—”

“How long?”

The question cracked hard enough the entire room seemed to flinch around it.

Lucien lowered his gaze briefly toward the sink.

“Since Prague.”

Her chest physically hurt.

Because Prague was weeks ago.

Weeks.

He spent weeks dying beside her while pretending they still had time.

Fear surged violently into anger before she could stop it.

“You lied to me.”

Lucien looked up immediately.

“I was trying to protect you.”

“There it is,” she laughed weakly, horrified. “The worst sentence men in love ever invent.”

The pain crossing his face almost stopped her.

Almost.

But then she looked again at the blood staining the sink basin black.

At the trembling hidden badly in his hands now.

And anger returned twice as sharp.

“You promised we’d face this together.”

“I promised I wouldn’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!”

Lucien’s control cracked slightly then.

Not violently.

Emotionally.

“You think I can survive watching this destroy you too?”

The words slammed through the room.

Silence afterward.

Heavy.

Breathing hard, Seraphina stared at him while understanding arrived slowly and horribly:

He wasn’t hiding the corruption because he feared dying.

He feared her choosing him over herself.

God.

That somehow made it worse.

Lucien pressed one shaking hand against the edge of the sink afterward like remaining upright suddenly required concentration.

“I needed time to find another way.”

“There is no other way.”

“I know.”

The answer came quietly.

Broken.

Like he’d already spent every possible night searching for alternatives alone.

Seraphina’s eyes burned painfully now.

“You decided all of this without me.”

Lucien looked at her with unbearable grief.

“I was trying to give you a future.”

The sentence shattered something.

Because suddenly she understood the full scale of what he’d been planning secretly.

Distance.

The journal.

The emotional withdrawal.

The careful smiles.

Lucien wasn’t preparing himself to die.

He was preparing her to survive after.

No.

Absolutely not.

Something inside Seraphina snapped violently.

Before thought fully formed—

before logic intervened—

she crossed the room and slapped him.

The sound cracked sharp against the medical room walls.

Silence followed instantly.

Lucien froze.

Not angry.

Not defensive.

Just shocked.

Seraphina stared at him breathing unevenly while tears finally burned over.

“You selfish bastard.”

The words came out shaking.

“How dare you decide I’d rather lose you than fight for you.”

Lucien’s expression changed immediately afterward.

Not because of the slap.

Because of the sentence.

God.

The grief inside him became visible then.

Raw enough no restraint fully hid it anymore.

Seraphina shoved hard against his chest next.

Not enough hurting him.

Enough making him feel it.

“You don’t get to quietly die while pretending it’s noble.” Her voice cracked harder. “You don’t get to love me and then disappear emotionally because you’re scared.”

Lucien caught her wrists gently when she shoved him again.

Not restraining.

Holding on.

His hands trembled badly now.

“I’m terrified,” he admitted.

The honesty stopped everything.

Seraphina stared at him.

Lucien looked wrecked.

Ancient immortal composure finally collapsing beneath exhaustion and fear and love all at once.

“I’m terrified every second,” he whispered. “Because the corruption keeps changing what I am.” His throat tightened visibly. “And because part of me already knows I would let the world burn before letting it take you.”

God.

The confession hollowed her out completely.

Lucien closed his eyes briefly afterward.

“And that,” he said quietly, “should frighten you too.”

Seraphina’s anger dissolved painfully into heartbreak.

Because he genuinely believed loving her this much was another form of monstrosity.

No.

She pulled free from his grip only long enough to grab his face hard between both hands.

Lucien opened his eyes immediately.

“You listen to me.”

Her tears finally spilled now.

“I am done letting you carry grief alone because you think it makes you noble.”

Lucien looked wrecked beneath the dim medical lights.

Black corruption visible along his throat.

Blood staining his mouth.

Terrified anyway only of losing her.

Seraphina’s voice softened shakily.

“You don’t get to die without me fighting for you first.”

The silence afterward felt enormous.

Lucien stared at her for several long seconds.

Then finally—

very quietly—

he leaned his forehead against hers like the remaining strength inside him depended entirely on contact now.

And for the first time since Doom infected him—

Seraphina felt him stop pretending he wasn’t afraid.