Ezra pushed past the notifications, running to the collapsed Nephilim.
"Oberyn!" he cried, sliding on his knees and landing at his friend's side. He lifted him up off the ground, inspecting him frantically.
Oberyn was in rough shape. His exposed torso was covered in cuts, and his head leaked blood. He was conscious, but only just barely.
Rav floated off the couch, suspended by cloudy magic. He rushes to get a closer look alongside Ezra.
"This is the Magician you were looking for, eh? Fancy him landing right on our doorstep."
"We need to help him!" Ezra commanded.
Rav nodded along. "Don't worry. I'm no savant, but I know a little about healing. Let's get him settled in your room and take it from there. Carry him for me, would you?"
Ezra lifted Oberyn off the ground. The dainty Nephilim felt even lighter than the other day when Ezra carried him on his back.
