Tunde stirred as sunlight pierced his face, causing him to scrunch his eyes and groan. His mouth was dry, and swallowing felt painful. As he blinked rapidly, trying to regain focus, a sudden jolt of awareness surged through him. He shot up from where he lay, alert and fearful, instinctively cycling his Ethra, though his body felt sluggish and unresponsive.
His surroundings puzzled him. Elder Joran sat on a chair next to Lady Ryka, both halting their furious whispering to glance his way, the elder raising one eyebrow in mild amusement. Panting softly, Tunde’s gaze moved to his arms, wrapped in thick linen that smelled of healing elixirs. The scent filled the room, soothing but slightly overwhelming. Slowly, it dawned on him that his entire upper body had been similarly wrapped. He was alive.
"I made it," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.