He moves forward and gently puts his hands on her forearms, looking into her eyes. She wants to run away and retreat in front of this invincible and strong man, who never lets his suffering show through and who has just discovered her own.īut he does not give her time. “Why are you here?” She asks, hopefully sounding even a bit like her normal self.įrankenstein does not answer and stares at her, the questioning look leaving room for surprise and concern on his face. Gathering what little dignity she has left, she raises her head and stands upright, in a vain attempt to appear stable and calm. She turns around sharply, and finds herself face to face with Frankenstein who looks at her questioningly. Suddenly, footsteps behind her makes her jump. But she feels the emotions invade her without being able to control herself. She plants her nails in the palms of her hands to focus on the physical pain rather than her grief. “I did not even manage to protect my own brother.Ī tear slides on her cheek. “How can I be competent to look after my people,” Lunark thought, leaning her forehead against the glass. She promised Mirai to stay strong and watch over their people when she sacrificed herself to save her. This particular sigh is always a harbinger of tears. And it was too late: it was already impossible for his brother to recover. She had discovered shortly after that Maduke only wanted to experiment on him. The day Maduke told her that he would ask scientists to try to find a cure for the illness he had since childhood, she had believed him. The same gesture she so often made when she came to visit her brother. She advances to the vat and puts her hand against the glass. Dust floats in the air and there is only a faint light emanating from the hallway. Everything is exactly as before, except that the healing vat is empty. Lunark travels to the small room next to the main lab.

She can not be of any help to Frankenstein, her people, or anyone else at this time. She is vaguely anxious for him, knowing that he was not the type to rest before having heal everyone else before him, but she still leaves. It makes her feel even more pitiful to see how strong he stay when she is ready to collapse at any moment. Blood flows from his wounds, but he moves as if nothing had happened. From the corner of her eye, she sees Frankenstein busy with Muzaka under the watchful eye of his master. She walks away slowly from the laboratory. She can’t be of help anyway, she has no medical knowledge. All this panic reminds her of heavy memories and she does not want to pretend to, well, rush to help. Her gaze is fixed in the void as she stands near the healing vats, holding her injured arm without feeling the pain. Shouts echo all around in the huge laboratory, filled with wounded werewolves.

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