A sterile stillness clung to the air of the healing ward in the Grand Arena's first floor.
Pale sunlight streamed through enchanted glass panes, casting dappled shadows across the two occupied beds.
Fiona lay unmoving in one, her expression calm but pale.
Tubes of glowing essence connected to her arms and temples, slowly replenishing her life force.
Despite the external healing, a faint crackled ripple pulsed from her chest, where her Soul Orb rested, fractured and unstable.
On the other side of the ward, Orion slept soundly. His body, though battered during the clash, was now fully healed. Yet his spirit… remained dormant.
A chair creaked softly.
Azrael sat beside Fiona, his arms folded, legs crossed, watching over his son and his sister.
The door opened with a soft whoosh.
Zion stepped in.
For a moment, he lingered silently, eyes moving between both beds before settling on Azrael.
Then, respectfully, he bowed. "Father."
