(GRIFFIN)
The steady beep of medical equipment is the only sound in the room as I stand at the foot of Maya's bed, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. Her auburn hair fans across the pillow, her skin pale but flushed with life. It seems impossible after what I witnessed—the blood pooling beneath her, her heart stopping, the light fading from her eyes.
Yet here she is. Alive. Changed.
The doors to the healing chamber open, and Jerry enters, his face drawn with exhaustion. "She's stable," he says, his voice low. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Neither have I," I admit, unable to take my eyes off her sleeping form. "How is this possible?"
Jerry shakes his head. "I don't know. The tests confirm it, though. She's changing on a cellular level. Human tissue is transforming into shifter tissue. It's inexplicable."
