Sonder was caught in the arms of Vell.
Just a moment before, he had awakened from his stasis.
A muffled sound caught his attention.
His eyes were open.
They were not the eyes of a man who had just awakened from a coma. There was no confusion in them, no attempt to understand where he was, for he already knew that he was in the tower of the Yellow Mage, an old friend of his.
He sat up, already knowing that a foul presence had infested the tower.
His legs swung over the side of the bed, and his feet struck the floor.
The sound seemed strange to him, and surprisingly loud.
He stood, if shakily.
He was alive. More than that.
He saw Sonder, and the mask on her face.
It was pulling itself deeper into her skin.
He moved. One moment he was beside the bed, and the next he was standing in front of her.
His hand closed around the side of the mask, and he pulled.
The edges of the mask began to peel away from Sonder's skin.
He could feel something cold tearing through her, and she collapsed against him.
For several seconds, there was nothing.
He held Sonder in one arm and the mask in the other.
The mask was writhing. He looked at it with sadness, worry, and then a tinge of fear as its mouth opened and a whisper escaped.
"Dread Mage…"
Then it closed and became what it had been again: just a hollow reflection of a man who had himself been hollow for a long time.
Vell's fingers tightened around it.
He quickly laid Sonder on the bed he had been lying in.
She wasn't the only one who needed attention.
The Yellow Mage was lying on the floor nearby, bleeding from his shoulder, where an arm had previously been.
His wrappings were oozing blood.
The tower itself was a mess, with dust and debris scattered across the floor, not to mention the overturned bookshelves and the other knick-knacks the Yellow Mage usually kept on his shelves.
And the two people who had seemingly been keeping him alive were now both unconscious.
There was more than just a stir of gratitude within him.
He looked back at Sonder.
And then at the Yellow Mage.
Vell's eyes settled on his old friend.
He had stayed.
Even after all this time.
Even after Vell could no longer wake, the Yellow Mage had remained beside him.
He had tended to him, protected him, and kept him alive when there had been no reason to believe Vell would ever return the favor.
Vell looked down at his hands.
When he closed his fingers, the movement felt unfamiliar.
They trembled.
His body was still weak. Whatever had happened to him had left its mark, and he could feel that he was not yet entirely himself.
But he was awake, and in the world.
That had to be enough for now.
He turned toward the Yellow Mage first.
Vell knelt beside him, and even a glance was enough to tell him that his wounds were bad.
The arm was gone from just below the shoulder, and the wrappings around the stump were soaked through with blood.
It wasn't as though it were really a stump.
It was more like a clean cut, but Vell was sure that nothing traditional had cut him.
He carefully pulled the cloth aside.
Then he placed a hand over the wound.
He hesitated for a moment.
He did not know if he still remembered how.
A warm light gathered beneath his palm.
Vell simply watched himself work.
It did not seem that the Yellow Mage was still bleeding when Vell tried to heal him.
But he couldn't manage to gather much power at the moment, so what he could do would have to be enough for now.