All Chapters of Eclipse of the Dead: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

I could barely concentrate as I stood in the lab, the faint hum of equipment filling the room. My mind was swirling with thoughts I couldn’t seem to untangle, all leading to one unbearable conclusion. I had spent years training to be logical, to remain composed in the face of chaos, but now, logic felt like an enemy. How could I even think about what the data demanded of me? Ethan was pacing a few feet away, his boots clicking softly on the tiled floor. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. He hadn’t said much since I told him the truth—that the cure needed his energy. I knew he was angry, not at me, but at the situation, at the impossible choice that had landed at our feet. I turned back to the table, staring down at the notes I’d scrawled in frantic handwriting just hours ago. Every number, every calculation, every step was clear. The cure was possible. We were on the brink of a miracle. But the price... “Julian,” Ethan’s voice broke through my

The tension between Ethan and me had been building for days. It was the kind of tension that weighed heavy in the air, lingering in the space between us even when we weren’t speaking. And lately, it seemed like we weren’t speaking much at all. Not really, anyway. Ethan had always been steady—determined, resolute, unshakable. But now, there was something else in his eyes. Frustration. Maybe even anger. I knew he was trying to be patient with me, but I could feel the cracks forming between us. Every time I looked at him, every time I thought about the choice we had to make, it felt like the ground was shifting beneath my feet. I sat at the lab table, staring down at the same set of notes I had been reviewing for hours. The calculations blurred together, the words on the page losing their meaning. I couldn’t focus. All I could think about was Ethan—about the cost of what I was asking of him. “Julian.” His voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up to see him standing in the do

The weight of the decision hung over me like a storm cloud, pressing down with a heaviness I could no longer ignore. For days, I had avoided facing the truth, hoping that if I worked hard enough, if I thought long enough, I could find another way. But now, staring down at the pages of my notes, the stark reality was undeniable. The cure was within our reach. I had all the pieces of the puzzle, and I knew how to put them together. But to complete it, to make it work, I needed Ethan’s powers. The energy required to synthesize the cure was far beyond anything else we could access, and his abilities were the only viable source. It wasn’t just a risk—it was a gamble with his life. And the odds weren’t in our favor. I leaned against the desk, my hands gripping the edges so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My stomach churned as I replayed the calculations in my mind. The numbers didn’t lie. No matter how much I wanted to deny it, this was the only way forward. I heard the soft sou

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound. The hum of the machines, the crackle of energy coursing through the room, and beneath it all, the labored breaths of the man I loved. It was deafening, unbearable, but I forced myself to keep going. I had no choice. Ethan stood in the center of the containment chamber, surrounded by a field of glowing light. His body was tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as his energy poured into the synthesizer. The cure—our only hope—was being formed before my eyes, but all I could think about was him. He had insisted on this, on being the one to make the sacrifice. I had fought him every step of the way, but now, as I watched the toll it was taking on him, I realized I hadn’t truly understood what this would mean. His knees buckled slightly, and my heart lurched. “Ethan!” I called out, my voice trembling with panic. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice strained but steady. “Keep going.” I didn’t believe him. How could I? His face was pale, h

The lab was quiet, save for the faint hum of machines that I had tuned out hours ago. The vial of the cure sat on the table in front of us, its faint glow a beacon of hope in the darkness that had consumed our world. But as I sat beside Ethan, leaning against the cold metal wall, the only thing I could focus on was him. Ethan had always been larger than life—unshakable, unbreakable. But now, sitting here beside me, I could see the toll everything had taken on him. His shoulders slumped, his breathing was slower than usual, and his once vibrant energy felt dimmed. Yet, despite it all, he was here. And for now, that was enough. I reached over and brushed a hand against his arm. “Are you okay?” I asked softly. Ethan turned his head to look at me, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I should be asking you that,” he replied, his voice rough but steady. “I’m serious, Ethan,” I said, my brow furrowing. “How do you feel?” He paused, his gaze searching mine. “Tired,” he ad