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Koh'a stared intently at the clock on the wall besides his bed. Since the Scions started collapsing, time hadn't registered in his addled mind the same way. What was once "how long until the next meal" or "time til next job", it was now "when will the next friend fall? Who will it be?."
At first he felt the same cold he imagined the dead felt as they passed when he heard or saw a companion collapse, yet now he felt nothing at all. Where once Koh'a had been the bright sun of the Scions, bringing levity to the most grim of times, he now rested cold against the walls of the Rising Stones, a scant moon of himself.
Tataru had sent word to Gliommoux, hoping for his aid as not even the Warriors of Light were safe from the strange ailment that began to afflict the Scions. Yet as the hands of the clock crawled forward, Koh'a couldn't help but wonder if her word was too late, and that he was already a lone Warrior of Light.