Seraphine was sitting on the same bed she woke up the day before. Her back leaned on the bedframe. One of her hands was bandaged up with a stick and it was propped with a sling so that it hung on the air. Her other hand put an ice bag on her swollen eyes. She had been sitting like that for two hours after waking up to the healer –which, after a few minutes of racking her brain, she remembered the name to be Seed –hovering his hands on top of her chest and stomach.
Purple light glowed from his hands. The white-haired man looked so serious. She quickly made the conclusion that he was fixing her ribcages and perhaps, some internal bleeding.
"Good morning, Lady Seraphine," the healer greeted, "Are you going to make visiting this infirmary a habit?"
After around ten minutes or so, the glow
