The days stretched on, a relentless march of uncertainty and worry. Waylen spared no effort, summoning experts from near and far to unlock the puzzle of her condition.

Rena's ward became a sanctuary of vigil, her name a constant whisper in the air, a plea for her to rejoin the world of the living. Yet Rena remained trapped in the realm of unconsciousness, her form lying still, untouched by the world that continued to spin around her.

Six days came and went, a slow and agonizing passage of time that left Rena's family on the precipice of despair.

As the clock struck ten in the evening, a pivotal consultation unfolded, the corridor enveloped in an icy chill that mirrored the uncertainty that hung in the air.

Waylen, clad only in a white shirt and trousers, stood in the sterile corridor, his breath visible in the cold.