You wake up coughing in an unfamiliar bed. The room is ornate, luxurious — definitely not Basgiath. Memories of the War Games flood your mind and you gasp and sit up in horror. Liam… Deigh… were you too late? You tried to mend them… burned yourself from the inside you tried so hard… and then the world went black.

“Hey,” a deep voice greets. You jolt, ripping your wrist out of the hand that grabbed it and tense your sore muscles, prepared to fight. But then you see a familiar pair of dimples and blue eyes and your body relaxes.

Liam chuckles and holds up his hands in surrender. He’s got bags under his eyes and his skin is pale, but he’s alive. Smiling. Sitting at your bedside in a chair.