Paragon of Mana

Ember awoke with a heavy head. Through bleary eyes, he saw a plastered white ceiling overhead and sighed in relief.

He didn’t find any missing limbs or fingers. Despite the lingering weakness in his body, he was alive and in one piece. Nothing was more important than that.

Flopping down onto the bedroll, Ember examined his surroundings. There were many other bedrolls like his, arrayed throughout the chamber, all occupied by patients of various ages. Most were unconscious, and their condition was far worse than his. He even caught sight of Talon, sleeping just one person over.

It seemed they were in some hall rooms that had been repurposed into an emergency infirmary. There was also a healer present. An elderly man with grey hair and a clean-shaven face, only marred by the wrinkles lining it. He didn’t seem to have noticed him, fully focused on attending to his patient on the other row.

Ember didn't bother him right away. Instead, he opened his status to note the changes. He had a deep premonition about some of them, though not all might be beneficial.