MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Blake cradled Celena close as he ascended the stairs, each step heavy with anticipation and dread. The others' voices faded behind him as he approached the closed door of Rose's room. He paused, taking a deep breath to steel himself before pushing it open.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep out the harsh daylight. The soft hum of medical equipment filled the air, a constant reminder of Rose's fragile state. Blake's eyes immediately found her still form on the bed, pale and motionless.

"Mommy?" Celena whispered, her small voice trembling.

Blake approached the bedside, his gaze locked on Rose's hand resting atop the covers. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the mark on her index finger - a dark, web-like pattern that had spread ominously since he'd last seen it. The inky tendrils now encompassed her entire index finger, creeping across her thumb and stretching halfway across her palm.

"Oh, Rose," he murmured, carefully setting Celena down on the edge of the bed. He gently took Rose's marked hand in his, tracing the edges of the spreading darkness with a feather-light touch.

Celena leaned forward, her eyes wide with concern. "Daddy, why won't Mommy wake up? And what's that on her hand?"

Blake struggled to find the right words. "Mommy is... very sick, sweetie. That mark is part of why she's sleeping so much. But we're going to make her better, I promise."

He watched Rose's face for any sign of awareness, but her features remained still, her breathing slow and even. The lack of response sent a chill through him. How much of Rose was left beneath the Nemisis's growing influence?

Celena reached out, her tiny hand hovering over Rose's marked one. "Can I touch her?"

Blake hesitated, then nodded. "Gently, okay?"

With the utmost care, Celena placed her hand on Rose's. For a moment, Blake thought he saw Rose's eyelids flicker, but they remained closed. Celena's lower lip trembled.

"She feels cold, Daddy."

Blake swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in his throat. "I know, sweetheart. But we're going to warm her up. We're going to bring her back to us."

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Rose's forehead. "We're home, love," he whispered against her skin. "And we have everything we need to save you. Just hold on a little longer."

As they sat there, the weight of their task settled heavily on Blake's shoulders. The spreading mark was a stark reminder of how little time they had left. But looking at Celena's determined little face, he felt a surge of renewed strength.

"Come on," he said softly, lifting Celena into his arms. "Let's go join the others. We have a lot of work to do."

With one last lingering look at Rose, Blake turned and carried Celena from the room. As he closed the door behind them, he missed the subtle twitch of Rose's marked fingers, a fleeting movement in the quiet room.

Blake descended the stairs, his mood somber and his eyes searching. As he reached the bottom, his gaze locked onto Dr. Martina, who was already looking his way with a knowing expression.

"Celena, sweetheart," Blake said softly, setting his daughter down. "Why don't you go play with your toys for a bit? Daddy needs to talk to Dr. Martina."

Celena hesitated, her eyes flicking between Blake and the doctor. "Is it about Mommy?"

Blake nodded. "Yes, but don't worry. We're going to make her all better."

With a small nod, Celena scampered off to her play area, though Blake noticed she kept glancing back at them.

Once Celena was out of earshot, Blake approached Dr. Martina, his voice low and urgent. "What happened while I was gone? Any changes?"

Dr. Martina's face tightened, lines of worry etching deeper around her eyes. "The mark has been spreading faster than we anticipated. It's not just her hand anymore, Blake. It's creeping up her back."

'Her back?' Blake repeated in his head. He hadn't seen that one yet.

Blake's jaw clenched. "And her condition?"

"Stable, but..." Dr. Martina hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "There have been moments when she seems... not quite herself. Brief periods of consciousness where she speaks, but the words aren't her own."

A chill ran down Blake's spine. "The Nemisis?"

Dr. Martina nodded grimly. "I believe so. Have you found anything that might help?"

Blake ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "We have the ingredients for a ritual, but it's risky. Have you made any progress on your end?"

The doctor shook her head, her shoulders sagging slightly. "I've tried every treatment I can think of, both medical and mystical. Nothing seems to slow its progress. I'm sorry, Blake. I wish I had better news."

Blake placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "You've done everything you could. Thank you for looking after her... after both of them."

Dr. Martina managed a small smile. "Of course. We're family."

With a nod of gratitude, Blake turned towards the front of the cabin. As he approached, he could hear Reggie's animated voice spinning a tale.

"...and then, with just three mighty punches, Blake felled the dragon guarding the spring!" Reggie was saying, his hands gesticulating wildly. "You should have seen it! Scales flying everywhere, and Blake standing there like some kind of ancient hero!"

Randal chimed in, "Don't forget the part where he had to save Dumphries using his blood dome!"

Gunther and Nana listened with wide eyes, clearly caught up in the exaggerated story. As Blake entered the room, however, a hush fell over the group.

Randal was the first to speak, his voice soft with concern. "Blake, how is she?"

The excitement of moments ago evaporated as they took in Blake's grim expression. He didn't need to say a word; his face told them everything they needed to know.

Reggie's shoulders slumped. "It's worse, isn't it?"

Blake nodded, his voice rough. "The mark is spreading faster than before. We don't have much time."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Gunther cleared his throat. "How long do we have? Until the full moon?"

Blake looked to Reggie and Randal, realizing he'd lost track of time during their frantic quest.

Randal pulled out a small, battered almanac. "Three days," he said, his finger tracing the lunar calendar. "The eclipse will happen just after midnight on the third day from now."

"Three days," Blake repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. It seemed both an eternity and no time at all.

Nana stepped forward, her face set with determination. "Then we'd better get started, hadn't we? What needs to be done?"

Blake felt a surge of gratitude for his family's unwavering support. "We need to prepare the ingredients, study the ritual. And..." he hesitated, "we need to be ready for any outcome."

The unspoken implication hung in the air. They all knew the risks, knew that this desperate gambit could cost them everything.

Gunther nodded solemnly. "We're with you, Blake. Whatever it takes."

As they began to discuss the preparations needed for the ritual, Blake's gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. In three days, under the light of the eclipse, they would either save Rose or lose her forever.

Blake's fists clenched at his sides. They had faced impossible odds before, had overcome challenges that should have broken them. This would be no different. They would save Rose, would bring her back from the brink.

Because the alternative was unthinkable.

As the group delved into the details of their preparations, Blake allowed himself one moment of vulnerability. He closed his eyes, sending a silent plea to whatever forces might be listening.

'Give us strength,' he thought. 'Give us time. Let this work.'

Then, squaring his shoulders, he turned back to his family. They had work to do, and precious little time to do it. The final battle for Rose's soul was about to begin.

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