-Celio-

His mouth was as dry as sun-beaten sand.

“Celio?”

He reached for the glass of water on his bedstand. The sloshing water jolted him. It was like the ocean.

In fact, he could see it very clearly in his mind; the hot sand, the furious surf, the mournful cries of seagulls whirling in a blue sky the size of eternity.

“Celio, how—”

A sky that echoed the ocean. Where had he seen that ocean? It wasn’t covered in smog and magical waste like the beach by the New Capital. Nor was it bright and harsh like the one by those vicious mountains-- peaks so sharp they seemed to puncture the sky.

But the ocean he saw in the glass was mellow and deep and melancholy.

“—are you feeling?”

It wasn’t his ocean.

He’d stolen a glimpse of it, stolen from the fragile woman, no, dungeon—

Ira grabbed his hand. He startled, spilling the water.

“Ira?” It was obviously Ira because of the callouses there, a pattern more familiar than his own hands. And he didn’t even hold her hands anymore. That was in the past, but it felt like now, and he pulled away to rub his eyes ineffectually.

“You okay?” Ira asked him. Her petite brows were furrowed—but not with anger.

He blinked. “Are you worried?”

Irritation flashed in her eyes. “Yes.” Her tone was level. “How are you feeling?”

“Ah, well…” Celio put a hand over his mouth, trying to hide a grin. “But, you’re really worried? About me?”

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She folded her arms. “That’s what I said. Now answer the question. How are you feeling?”

Celio’s grin grew, splitting into laughter.

Ira narrowed her eyes. Those big green eyes that always spat and hissed at everything like a wildcat, ever since they were young. “Is it that funny?”

He laughed harder, until she grew worried again, then he quickly nodded.

“I’m fine, Ira. I feel…” Celio paused, trying to describe the feeling. The colored light, falling in from a stained-glass window above Lux’s altar, pulled at his eyes. It lit up the room-- a place of both worship and medicine—and gave it a bright liveliness he hadn’t noticed before. Lighting mattered quite a bit, didn’t it? He thought he’d understood that with his art, but now he saw how much he’d neglected that. His next painting would have to be—

“Celio?”

“I feel different.” He said the first thing that came to mind, and it fit.

She raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

Stretching, Celio slid out of bed.

“Celio, you’ve been unconscious for three days—” Ira followed him to the altar, where Celio bent in a quick prayer of gratitude. She fell silent out of respect, but continued the moment he unbent his head. “—I don’t think you should be up and around yet.” He began his morning Movements of Light routine, ignoring her persistent nagging. “High Priestess Aurelia wasn’t sure you’d survive—Lux herself helped, and Aurelia still wasn’t sure. So, you need to sit down, alright? I’ll go get her when you do…”

She grabbed his hand, nearly throwing him off balance. “Celio!”

He paused. Looked at her.

Ira looked frightened. He could tell because her eyebrows were thrown back like wind-pressed weeds, and her lower lip was trembling. That was how she’d looked when they’d faced their first monster, a shadow wolf they’d come across by sheer accident.

He scowled at the memory. She startled as he wrapped her up in a hug.

After they’d killed the wolf, he’d made fun of her for being frightened. Ira had cried and ran away. They’d made up later, and he’d kissed her; not because he’d loved her, but because she’d truly forgive him if he did, and she was pretty.

She was still pretty.

After a moment in his arms, she began to sob. He patted her on the back. “Good kitty.” He crooned, voice somewhere between soothing and mocking, “Nice kitty. Who’s the best little tabby? Ira is—”

She socked him in the ribs.

“Oof.” It hurt a lot more than it should have.

Ira froze. “I—I’ll go get Aurelia!”

As the paladin ran from the room, Celio sat down on the bed once more, rubbing his ribs. His mind was starting to settle a bit: the waves within him going out like a tide.

Then he frowned. “Wait.”

The blow to his ribs had hurt more than usual. But he didn’t have any specific rib injuries already present…

“What happened to my stats?!”