The silence in Thomas' study was quite a heavy one suffocating blanket, wrapping itself around Ashton as he tried to process what Thomas had just said. The idea, the possibility that the flower’s curse could be satisfied by his own sacrifice, sent some sort of a wave of cold dread rippling through him.
Ashton stared at the table, his hands trembled as they resting over the pages of an old tome filled with cryptic inscriptions and faded ink. His mind swirled with questions, fears, and the weight of the choices laid before him.
Thomas sat across from him, his arms crossed, his eyes serious.
"You don’t have to decide now," he said, his voice low but steady. "But we need to consider it. If there's a chance this curse can be broken without dragging someone else into it—without killing anyone you care about—then we need to at least explore it."
Ashton clenched his fists, the roughness of the ancient paper brushing against his
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