Teardrops splashed onto Michael Ashworth's pale hand as Isabelle clutched it desperately. Her shoulders trembled with each silent sob. I stood behind her, feeling utterly helpless as the family doctor shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Ashworth. We've done everything possible." The doctor's voice was solemn. "His condition has deteriorated beyond our ability to treat. It's only a matter of ti now."
Isabelle's quiet whimpers tore at my heart. The bedroom felt suffocating—filled with Ashworth family mbers whose expressions ranged from genuine grief to calculated indifference.
Corbin stepped forward, his face a perfect mask of sorrow. "How could this happen so suddenly? He was fine earlier today."
The doctor adjusted his glasses. "His organs are shutting down. It appears he's been hiding his condition for months."
Corbin's eyes darted to , narrowing with accusation. "It's rather coincidental that his collapse occurred imdiately after being alone with an outsider."
I t his gaze without flinching. "Your father was already ill when we entered his study. I tried to help him."
"Help him?" Corbin's voice rose dramatically. "With what? Those strange needles you were using on him?"
Several family mbers muttered among themselves, their suspicion palpable.
Isabelle turned toward her uncle, her tear-streaked face hardening. "Stop it, Uncle Corbin. Liam would never harm Grandfather."
"Your judgnt is clouded by emotion," Corbin replied smoothly. "This man appears conveniently whenever our family faces trouble."
I stayed silent, watching Michael's face. Sothing wasn't right. Despite his deteriorating vital signs, I noticed a faint, almost imperceptible light flickering across his forehead—visible only to my enhanced perception.
My heart raced. That light—I'd seen it before in my dical texts. It was a sign of divine sense, still present even as the body failed.
"He's not gone yet," I whispered, moving closer to the bed.
All eyes turned to .
"What did you say?" Isabelle asked, her voice fragile with hope.
I placed my hand above Michael's head, feeling the faint energy signature. "His divine sense still remains. His consciousness hasn't dissipated completely."
Corbin scoffed. "More mystical nonsense. Doctor, please explain to my niece that false hope is crueler than acceptance."
The doctor looked uncomfortable. "Modern dicine doesn't recognize the concept of divine sense, but—"
"I can save him," I interrupted, certainty filling my voice.
Isabelle's eyes widened. "How? The doctors said—"
"Not through conventional thods," I explained, my mind racing through the ancient knowledge stored in my mories. "There's a formation I learned about in Earth Fiend Valley—the Resurrection Formation."
"Resurrection?" Corbin's voice dripped with mockery. "Next you'll claim you can raise the dead."
"Not exactly resurrection," I clarified, ignoring his tone. "But a transfer. His divine sense—his consciousness, mories, everything that makes him who he is—can be preserved if we act quickly."
A glimr of desperate hope flickered in Isabelle's eyes. "What do we need to do?"
"We need to take him to a place where I can establish the formation. And we'll need..." I hesitated, knowing how it would sound. "We'll need a host body."
The room erupted in outraged murmurs.
"This is blasphemy!" Corbin thundered. "He wants to desecrate my father's body for so occult ritual!"
"It's not desecration," I countered firmly. "It's his only chance."
Isabelle stood up, her tear-stained face suddenly resolute. "If there's even the slightest chance to save Grandfather, we must take it."
Corbin stepped between us and the bed. "I will not allow my father's body to be used for your dark experints! This man has clearly lost his mind, Isabelle. Can't you see he's manipulating your grief?"
I t Corbin's gaze directly. "Or perhaps you're afraid."
"Afraid?" His face reddened. "Of what?"
"That if Michael returns, your bid for family leadership ends before it begins."
The room fell silent. I'd struck at the heart of Corbin's true agenda—one that everyone suspected but no one dared ntion.
Dominic Ashworth, Corbin's son, surprisingly stepped forward. "Father, if there's any possibility that Grandfather can be saved, shouldn't we at least consider it?"
Other family mbers began nodding in agreent. Public opinion was shifting. This chapter was first seen on *.
Corbin's eyes darted around the room, calculating. His shoulders slumped in apparent surrender.
"Fine," he said, voice heavy with reluctance. "If this is what the family wants, I won't stand in the way. But when this fails—and it will fail—rember that I tried to protect my father's dignity."
Isabelle gripped my hand tightly, her eyes searching mine. "Can you really save him?"
"I'll do everything in my power," I promised, squeezing her hand in return. "We need to move quickly."
As we began making preparations to transport Michael, Corbin pulled his most trusted advisor aside, their backs turned to the room.
"Is this wise, sir?" the advisor whispered. "If by so miracle he succeeds—"
Corbin's lips curled into a cold smile. "Let's not even talk about whether or not he can revive my dad. Even if he does, so what? The body, the appearance, even the voice will be changed. How can he prove that a stranger is my dad?"
The advisor's eyes widened in understanding.
"Let him try," Corbin continued, his voice barely audible. "His failure will discredit him forever in Isabelle's eyes. And if, by so dark magic, he succeeds..." He gave a dismissive shrug. "A stranger claiming to be Michael Ashworth will never reclaim his position in this family. Either way, I win."
Unaware of this sinister conversation, Isabelle and I carefully prepared for what would be my greatest challenge yet—bringing back a man whose body had already begun its journey into death, while his most ambitious son secretly plotted to ensure that even success would an failure.
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