We followed the ICU nurse through doors that open and closed behind us. The ICU was different from the ER, more death happening slowly instead of all at once.

  Murin arrived as we were being led back. He looked like he'd run the entire way from wherever he'd been. Hair sticking up, shirt half-untucked, breathing hard. His eyes found mine and I saw the question there. I just shook my head slightly. Not good.

  The nurse stopped outside a room. Through the glass wall I could see equipment. Murin stepped up next to me. Prisha was behind us with Kaya but the nurse held up his hand. "Two at a time. Hospital policy."

  Prisha started to protest but Kaya pulled her back. "Let them go first. They're his friends."

  The nurse pushed open the door. Akki wasn't in the bed. There was a body that had roughly Akki's dimensions, but that's where the similarity ended. His head was wrapped in bandages, white gauze covering half his skull. His face was swollen to the point of being unrecognizable, eyes puffed shut, skin stretched tight. A tube into his mouth, taped to his face, connected to a ventilator that hissed and clicked with each mechanical breath.

  His right leg was held up in some medieval torture device, the external fixator, metal rods piercing through skin into bone at six different points, holding the shattered pieces in some approximation of a femur. Blood and clear fluid oozed around each pin site, staining the bandages.

  IV lines in both arms. Central line in his neck. Arterial line in his left wrist. Chest tube draining blood-tinged fluid from around his lung. Foley catheter draining urine that was darker than it should be. NG tube draining stomach contents. And the monitors, five different screens showing heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, intracranial pressure, ventilator settings.

  I stood in the doorway and my legs just stopped working. Murin walked forward. Stopped at the foot of the bed. His hands gripped the rail. "Akki," he said. His voice cracked on the name. The ventilator kept hissing, the monitors kept beeping.

  I forced myself to step closer. My hands were shaking. I shoved them in my pockets so Murin wouldn't see.

  This was the old man on the street. This was years ago all over again except this time it was someone I knew. Someone who'd eaten my food and stolen my notes and complained about everything and made awful jokes at six AM. Someone who'd sat on his bed two nights ago telling me about some girl he'd met at the coffee shop who "definitely smiled at him for like three whole seconds."

  I looked at the monitors. Heart rate 112. Blood pressure 98/64. The ICP monitor showed 18. I knew what all those numbers meant. Could recite the normal ranges, the danger zones, the interventions needed at each threshold. Years of education and I was exactly as useless as I'd been at seventeen watching a stranger seize. The System flickered on.

  "Turn off," I whispered.

  The System ignored me. Started providing more information I didn't want. Detailed breakdown of each medication running through each IV line. Analysis of his ABG results showing metabolic acidosis. Projection models for recovery timelines.

  "I said turn off."

  "Then I'm dismissing you again. Four hours. Go away."

  "FOUR. HOURS. GO."

  The screen flickered and went dark.

  Murin was talking quietly to Akki. Telling him he was going to be fine, that he needed to wake up soon because his hair was going to be a disaster when he came to and someone needed to make sure the nurses didn't fuck it up. Stupid things. Things that Akki would have laughed at if he could hear them.

  "Time's up," the nurse said from the doorway. Murin didn't move.

  "Murin," I said.

  He turned and walked out without looking at me. Prisha and Kaya went in next. Through the glass I could see Prisha approach the bed and her whole body just folded. She grabbed the rail to keep from falling. Started sobbing so hard the nurse had to get her a chair. I stared at her through the glass. At the way she was crying like something had been ripped out of her chest.

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  "What the fuck," I said.

  Kaya heard me and turned. "What?"

  "Nothing."

  But it wasn't nothing. It was Prisha two weeks ago telling Akki no in front of her friends. Prisha who couldn't be bothered to notice he existed. Prisha who was now crying like she'd lost something precious.

  We waited while they had their ten minutes. When they came out Prisha's face was red and swollen and streaked with makeup. She sat down in the waiting area and just kept crying. Kaya sat next to her, rubbing her back.

  Jordan and Marcus went in next. My father had left to get coffee. It was just me and Murin standing there. "His parents aren't here yet," Murin said. "They should be here. Why aren't they here?"

  "They're coming. They're on a train."

  "His parents' train got delayed," I said. "Track maintenance or something."

  "Did you tell them?"

  "Yeah. His mom started crying. His dad just... went quiet."

  Jordan and Marcus came out. Jordan looked worse than before, if that was possible. He walked straight past us and out into the hallway. Marcus followed him.

  Three hours later, in the waiting area, a couple had appeared. Late forties, exhausted-looking, the woman clutching a bag like it was the only thing keeping her upright. The man was on the phone speaking in rapid, stressed tones.

  Jordan saw them and stood up. "Mr. and Mrs. Santos."

  Akki's parents. His mother looked at Jordan with red eyes. "Where is he?"

  "ICU. Doctors are with him right now. As soon as they’re done stabilizing him, they’ll let you in. A nurse said probably within the hour."

  "An hour? I need to see him now."

  Jordan's voice was gentle but firm. "I know it's hard but please wait."

  Mrs. Santos looked like she might argue but her husband put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll wait."

  They sat down. Mrs. Santos kept her bag clutched to her chest. Mr. Santos stared at the wall. I stood there feeling like an intruder. These were Akki's parents. They'd traveled twelve hours to get here. They deserved privacy, space to process whatever they were feeling. But I also couldn't leave.

  Murin approached them slowly. "Mr. and Mrs. Santos? I'm Murin. Akki's roommate."

  Mrs. Santos looked up at him. "Is he going to be okay?"

  Murin didn't answer immediately, didn't give false reassurance or empty platitudes.

  "I don't know," he said finally. "The doctors say the next forty-eight hours are critical. His brain swelling is coming down. That's good. But he's still in a coma and they won't know if there's permanent damage until they wake him up."

  She made a sound like she'd been hit. Mr. Santos's jaw clenched. "Can you tell us what happened?" he asked.

  Jordan stepped in. Explained about the motorcycle ride, the delivery truck running the red light, the impact. He kept his voice steady and factual but his hands were shaking.

  Mrs. Santos started crying quietly. Mr. Santos just nodded, processing. Finally, they let Akki's parents go back first, alone. Hospital policy bent for immediate family. They were back there for twenty minutes. When they came out Mrs. Santos was sobbing and Mr. Santos looked like he'd aged ten years.

  The nurse approached them. "We need to discuss treatment plans and next steps. There's a consultation room this way."

  They followed her. Jordan went with them for support.

  The nurse at the desk looked at us. "You can come back for evening visiting hours. Six to seven PM."

  We left. My father drove us back to the hostel. Got back to the room around four. I opened the door and immediately wanted to leave again. Akki's bed was still unmade, his phone charger still plugged in. His textbook still open on his desk.

  Murin went to his desk. Sat down and opened his laptop.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "Pharmacology assignment. Due Tuesday."

  I stared at him. "Are you fucking serious right now?"

  "What else am I supposed to do?"

  "I don't know, maybe not homework? Maybe process the fact that our friend is in a coma?"

  "And how exactly do you suggest I process that?" His voice was getting louder. "Sit here and think about it? Cry? Scream? What's the appropriate response here, Ashru? Tell me because I don't fucking know!"

  "I don't know either but it's not doing homework."

  "Then what?" He slammed his laptop shut and stood up. "What am I supposed to do? Because I can't go back there and watch him not breathe on his own and I can't say anything to his parents because what am I going to say that makes any of this better and I can't just sit here and think about how he might never wake up so maybe doing homework is stupid but at least it's something." His voice broke on the last word. He sat back down hard. Put his head in his hands.

  I stood there uselessly, wanted to say something that would help, but nothing came out.

  "I'm sorry," Murin said after a while. His voice was muffled. "I'm sorry. I just—"

  We sat in silence. Murin opened his laptop again but didn't type anything. Just stared at the screen.

  My phone buzzed. Message from my mother asking if we needed anything. I didn't respond.

  Around five we headed back to the hospital. Got there early, sat in the waiting area. Prisha was still there. She'd stopped crying but her eyes were swollen almost shut. I looked at her. "Why are you here?" The words came out before I could stop them.

  She looked up. "What?"

  "Why are you here? Why you're crying like... Like you actually cared." I gestured vaguely.

  Her face went red. "Fuck you."

  "No seriously. You didn't want him when he was awake. Why do you care now that he's—"

  "FUCK YOU." She stood up. Kaya grabbed her arm but she shook her off. "You don't know anything about—you think just because I said no that means I didn't—that I—" She couldn't finish. Started crying again. Harder than before. "You think I'm here for drama. That I'm performing or something. That I don't have the right to be upset because I rejected him."

  "I just—"

  "He asked me out in front of everyone. Put me on the spot. Made me the bad guy for saying no. So yeah, I said no. But that doesn't mean I wanted him to DIE. That doesn't mean I don't care if he die." Her voice broke again.

  Kaya pulled her back down to the chair. Shot me a look that could have stripped paint.

  I stood there feeling like complete shit. Murin was staring at me. "What the hell was that?"

  "I DON'T KNOW." I walked away. Down the hallway, found the bathroom and locked myself in a stall and sat on the closed toilet lid with my head in my hands.

  What was wrong with me? Why had I said that? Prisha was right. She was completely right. Just because she'd said no didn't mean she wanted this. Didn't mean she wasn't allowed to be upset.

  I was angry. That's what it was. Angry at the truck driver who'd run the red light. Angry at Akki for buying that stupid motorcycle. Angry at Jordan for convincing him. Angry at the doctors for not being able to promise he'd be okay. Angry at myself for being useless. And I'd taken it out on Prisha because she was there and crying and I didn't understand why. I sat there for minutes before heading back. Evening visiting hours had started. Murin was already inside with Akki. I could see him through the glass, standing at the foot of the bed, not moving.

  When he came out I went in alone. Stood next to the bed and looked down at Akki's swollen face. "I'm sorry," I said. To Akki, not to anyone else. "I'm sorry I can't fix this. I'm sorry I'm angry at everyone including you. I'm sorry for everything.

  I stood there until the nurse told me time was up. I came out and suddenly my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was an unknown number. I answered, "Hello?"

  ?"Is this Ashrahan?" a man's voice asked. It sounded like a courier or perhaps building staff. "I have a mail delivery for you. I’m at your hostel. No one’s answering your room."

  ?Mail? In this day and age, who sends an actual letter? Everything important came via encrypted pings or secure servers.

  ?"I’m not there," I said, rubbing my face. "I'm at the hospital."

  ?"I can drop it off at the entrance if you’re available to receive it now," he offered.

  ?"Fine. I’ll meet you at the main doors in five minutes."

  ?I made my way down the corridor. At the entrance, a man was waiting, a clipboard tucked under his arm. He held out a plain white envelope.

  ?"Here you go," he said, checking a clipboard.

  ?"Thanks."? He didn't linger. As he walked away, I looked down at the paper. It was crisp and unmarked, save for my name written in surprisingly neat, elegant handwriting. There was no return address.

  ?I slid my thumb under the seal and opened it.

  You should learn to use the System to save your friend.

  Dark steampunk fantasy

  The world of Rohana exists beneath a barrier of luminous crosses that has enclosed humanity in a dome. Within it, people bow to Rohai and his Church of Harmony, who have divided the world into city dwellers who harness crystal technology and villagers who reject it.

  Haran Baratti fled his homeland with his infant son, Heron, and found refuge in a remote village in a neighboring country. But the sanctuary they seek does not last, and events revolving around Haran's past leave Heron alone, forcing him to return to his father's homeland. But to get there, he can only do it by obtaining a special passport, which will allow him to travel to different kingdoms.

  Having been raised in a different culture, Heron will have to navigate a world of mechanical cities powered by crystalline powers and governed by various social structures. There he'll meet allies and face dangerous foes. And those whom he encounters have secrets; some of them, if revealed to the public, may reshape the very foundations of the Rohana Federation. Will Heron, in learning those secrets, realize that maybe some of those secrets should have stayed buried?

  What to expect:

  ? Dark steampunk-inspired power fantasy with extensive world-building

  ? Magic systems where power comes at a psychological cost

  ? Visceral, well-choreographed combat sequences

  ? Mysteries that unfold across multiple volumes

  ? Steampunk aesthetics merged with elemental magic

  ? Stories where the actors are often found in morally grey areas