Raziel opened his eyes.
The ceiling of the St. Celeste infirmary was white and cracked, a map of imperfections he already knew by heart.
"Finally," Lucian was slumped in a chair next to the bed, his head thrown back and dark circles under his eyes that looked like bruises.
He straightened up suddenly, his green eyes fixed on him.
"You've been unconscious for two days. I thought that..."
"I'm fine," Raziel lied.
Just at that moment, Brother Thomas, the academy's head healer, approached the bed.
His face, usually serene, was tense with worry.
"No, you are not, boy," Thomas said. "Your superficial wounds closed, but the main one... the one on the chest... is not responding."
Thomas raised a hand over Raziel's chest.
A soft greenish light, the energy of the Healer's Path, flowed from his fingers.
But instead of soothing the pain, the light seemed to sizzle and fade upon contact with his skin.
