You did not even know how to breathe.

Ezra frowned at the mask that covered his mouth and nose. His brows furrowed and he looked around. His gaze fell on Chris, who was sitting beside his bed. He arched an eyebrow at the other, silently asking what had happened.

Chris sighed. “You were hit by some soft of spell,” he said, his voice soft. “Lyn thought they were going to lose you. Keenan was able to get you stabilized, but… the machine is basically breathing for you.”

For a moment, what Chris was saying didn’t make any sense. Then, Ezra realized what he meant. A spell had struck his aura, which was reacting violently as a result. He nodded. He looked at the machine and then at Chris, silently asking how long he would be this way.

“Want something to write with?” Chris asked.

Even as Ezra was nodding, Keenan spoke up from the doorway. “He might not be able to write yet. Give him a keyboard, so he can type.”

Chris nodded and slipped a small datapad under his hand. Ezra typed his question and then Chris showed it to Keenan. “I was wondering the same thing,” he admitted. “He’ll recover, right?”

“His aura was practically shredded,” Keenan said, his expression grim. He looked at Ezra. “It’ll take time and we can’t know how complete the recovery will be, but you’ll improve.”

Nodding, Ezra relaxed. He’d recover. He’d do whatever it took to get his quality of life as near to what it was as possible. The first goal, in his mind, was to reach the point where he could do the basic things – like breathing on his own – again.


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