A SIMPLE LAUGTER

A low rustle of bedsheets disturbed the stillness of the room. Arslan slowly opened his eyes, the haze of sleep fading from his vision. The sun had climbed high now, light falling across the stone floor through the half-drawn drapes of the ward. The quiet crackle of the herbal burner in the corner mingled with the gentle hum of ambient healing orbs placed by the bedside.

Arslan inhaled deeply and whispered, "Kar'Thael."

Kar'Thael's voice echoed from within, low and calm. "Yes, Arslan?"

"I need to go to the washroom," he muttered.

Kar'Thael replied immediately, with concern in his tone, "You should call someone. You haven't regained your strength."

"No," Arslan whispered firmly. "I can do it."

He gritted his teeth, pushing the warm blanket aside and planting his feet on the floor. A sharp jolt of pain surged through his legs and back, but he clenched his fists, determined. The cold stone floor felt unforgiving beneath his bare feet.

He rose—slow, shaky, each breath sharp. But just as he took his second step, a violent pull in his chest made him stumble. The ward filled with a loud thud as his body hit the floor.

"Gahh!" Arslan moaned, his arm curled under him.

Outside in the corridor, Tharion and Tarric heard the crash and rushed in.

"Arslan!" Tharion shouted, kneeling beside him.

"Are you mad!?" Tarric yelled, lifting Arslan's upper body with Tharion. "What the hell are you doing?"

Arslan winced but replied weakly, "I didn't want to bother you all... I just needed to go to the washroom."

Tharion cursed under his breath. "You bastard... you almost gave me a heart attack. Next time, call someone!"

"Don't be so stubborn," Tarric added, as they helped him up gently.

Tharion wrapped Arslan's arm over his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you there."

They carefully walked him toward the washroom door.

Tharion joked, half-smiling, "Want me to come inside too? Help hold you steady?"

Arslan, with a tired grin, groaned, "No way... just go away."

Laughter briefly eased the tension. After a while, Arslan returned to his bed, slightly more at ease. Tharion and Tarric sat beside him until they were sure he was stable.

About fifteen minutes later, the heavy wooden door creaked again. Julius entered the ward, followed by Kaelen of Obreth. Their boots clacked softly on the stone floor.

"Arslan," Julius said, voice laced with concern. "How are you feeling now?"

Kaelen approached with his usual calm. "What the hell happened to you, bro? You look like you got stomped by a Basilisk."

Arslan offered a faint smile. "It felt worse than that."

Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "You remember what happened in the site?"

Arslan hesitated, glancing away. "Not much... just... pain. I don't know what happened to me."

He didn't want to reveal anything about the vision—not yet.

Julius folded his arms. "Whatever it was, it left a mark. Your heartbeat stopped. The curse in those sites... it's worse than we thought."

Kaelen added, "You used Dark Infusion, right? Think it might be connected?"

Arslan replied with a furrowed brow, "Maybe... but it wasn't just stamina loss. Something inside... it felt like my heart was burning. Like something trying to take over."

Kaelen and Julius exchanged glances.

After half an hour of discussion and cautious warnings about returning to the field, they departed, leaving Arslan to rest.

Moments later, the ward door opened again, this time softer, filled with warmth. Nirela entered, holding a small tray. The scent of herbs, ginger, and warm broth filled the room.

"Hey," she said gently, smiling. "Hurry up... take it. I made this soup for you myself."

Arslan groaned, "Nirela... I really don't want to eat anything right now."

She placed the tray on the side table and crossed her arms. "I didn't ask if you wanted. You need to."

He looked at her with playful defiance. "You're impossible."

Nirela gently lifted the bowl and brought a spoon to his lips. "And you're stubborn. Now drink."

He sighed and took a small sip. The warmth spread through his throat and down his chest.

"Not bad," he murmured.

"Thank you," she said, grinning.

They sat together quietly. Outside, birds chirped in the trees, and the faint clang of training weapons echoed from the yard. Inside, the room remained a bubble of comfort.

Nirela reached out and held his hand. "You should tell your mother."

Arslan immediately shook his head. "No. She'll panic. I don't want her to worry about me again. Please... just don't tell her."

Nirela squeezed his hand gently. "Okay... I promise. But if she finds out, I'll say you threatened me."

He chuckled, then winced slightly.

"Easy now," Nirela said, placing a hand on his chest. "Get better first. Then you can argue."

He nodded. "Thanks... for staying. For the soup. For everything."

She stood up and leaned over, brushing her fingers through his hair. "Rest now, Arslan. I'll come back in a while."

As she turned to leave, Arslan whispered, "Nirela."

She turned. "Yes?"

He looked at her with soft eyes. "Next time, bring cookies."

She laughed, nodded, and stepped out, closing the door behind her. The room settled again into silence, filled only with the slow, steady rhythm of Arslan's healing heart.