The ceiling above him was a blur of white and gold. For a moment, Khisa thought he was still dreaming, drifting between the edge of life and something beyond. But as the dull ache in his side throbbed, he realized he was very much alive.
The familiar scent of herbs, salves, and smoke from healing incense filled his lungs. He blinked slowly, his vision clearing to reveal the smooth, curved beams of the medical hall's ceiling. It was the same room where countless soldiers had once been treated, but now, he was the one lying on the bed.
A faint hum of activity echoed beyond the door. The clinking of glass bottles, muffled voices, and the sound of sandals brushing against the polished floor.
Then the door opened.
A young healer stepped in, her arms full of herbs. She froze when her eyes met Khisa's open gaze. The bundle of leaves slipped from her grasp, scattering across the floor.
"By the ancestors...Prince Khisa!" she gasped. "You're awake!"
