The next morning in the medical ward of the academy, morning light seeped through the high arched windows of the medical ward. The clean smell of enchanted salves clung to the air, documented in conjunction with the subdued gurgle of circulating waters somewhere off in the distance and the quiet whisper of healing mages working on neighboring beds. Kaidën lay still on a stiff white bed, wrapped in thick layers of bandaging. Dry blood crusted about the ribs and across the knuckles bore testimony to the duel the day prior, but the face was relatively unmarred.
He was insensible to anyone that might observe him. An injured boy struggling to keep a grip on the edges of consciousness after a ruthless duel. But truly, Kaidën was very awake. His breathing was even and controlled. His senses acutely tuned to pick up on motion...Sound...Threat.
