The cabin's stale air hung heavy with the scent of blood.
"She's burning up," Ronan said, his voice breaking as he pressed a damp cloth to Regina's forehead.
She lay motionless on the narrow bed, her normally olive skin now sickly pale except for two feverish spots of color high on her cheekbones. Her chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths. Even in the dim light, I could see the thin trail of blood at the corner of her mouth.
"What happened?" I moved closer, my heart pounding against my ribs.
"I don't know. She was fine when we boarded, just tired." Ronan's fingers trembled as he brushed a strand of hair from his sister's face. "Then an hour ago, she started coughing. There was blood. So much blood."
Regina's eyes fluttered open briefly. "It's back," she whispered, her voice a raspy thread. "The sickness from before."
"Before?" I knelt beside her bed.
"From when I was younger." She winced, her face contorting in pain. "They said it might return someday."
