The portal flares brightly behind the fallen man and vanishes, leaving no trace of magic behind. For a long moment, there is only the harsh sound of his breathing, ragged and pained.

Then a nurse walking down the empty hallway of the hospital late at night glances through the open door of the exam room and startles, dropping her stack of folders with a crash. She rushes forward, calling for help, and finds the man unconscious but breathing, his pulse rapid and thready. His body shows signs of trauma - bruises blossoming under the skin, a broken arm at an unnatural angle, and a head wound still oozing blood.

As the nurse works to stabilize him, she fumbles through the pockets of his singed robes and finds an intricately carved ring on a heavy chain around his neck, the only clue to his identity. The ring seems old, holding an uncut garnet like a drop of blood. Under the dim lights of the exam room, it almost seems to glow with an inner fire. She slides it gently back under his clothes, a mystery for another time. Right now, keeping this stranger alive is the top priority.

More help arrives promptly in response to her yell, and they carefully roll the man onto a backboard, taking pains not to move his neck any more than necessary.

He's not completely unresponsive - he moans in response to being moved, which much be very painful; in addition to the broken arm, there are third-degree burns on his arms and more extensive, if less severe, burns on much of his body. His pupils react sluggishly and are somewhat unequal sizes. His breathing is labored, and when they finally get a portable pulse ox reading, his oxygen saturation is at 81% on room air. 

The medical team rushes the stranger into a trauma bay, where doctors and nurses descend upon him. An oxygen mask is fitted over his face, IV lines are inserted, and monitors flash to life, tracking a heartbeat growing steadily weaker. His broken arm is set and splinted, burned flesh is slathered in cooling gel.
There are too many unknowns here. The lack of identification, the strange singed clothing, the unexplained portal - it all suggests something far outside the norm. But for now, the mysteries will have to wait.
Despite their best efforts, his vitals continue to falter. His oxygen levels are not improving, and his breathing becomes increasingly shallow. The head wound is still seeping blood, swelling visible under the makeshift bandage.
The lead trauma doctor swears under his breath, frustrated by the lack of response. They are missing something, some key factor that could stabilize their patient. As the stranger's life hangs in the balance under the harsh lights, the garnet ring under his robes seems to pulse, as if keeping time with a fading heartbeat. The doctor rubs at his eyes, unsure if it's just a trick of his vision. He has seen much in his career, but nothing quite like this.
With options running out, the team prepares to intubate the stranger and rush him into emergency surgery. His fate now lies in the hands of the on-call neurosurgeon, who will have to navigate the mysteries inside this man's skull to save his life.

The patient's oxygenation improves once he's intubated and the ventilator is hooked up, but he's still deeply unresponsive, and despite IV fluids, his blood pressure is still lower than ideal. 

The team rearranges tubes and pumps on the stretcher, and prepares to transport the patient to Radiology for a set of CT scans to check the extent of his injuries, especially the head injury. His burns are temporarily bandaged; most of them are superficial, but the damage on his arms is serious, and will need surgical debridement and grafts to avoid infection. 

The CT scan reveals swelling and bleeding in the brain, as well as hairline fractures in the skull. The neurosurgeon studies the images with a frown, tracing the web of damage. She prepares for a long, difficult surgery to relieve the pressure and stop the internal bleeding, giving this stranger a chance at survival.
In the operating room, the steady beeps of the monitors seem loud in the silence. The nursing team works seamlessly around the surgeon as she makes her first incision, beginning the painstaking process of accessing the brain. The damage is severe, but not irreparable - at least, not yet.
Hours slip by as she works slowly and carefully, draining excess fluid and blood, repairing veins and arteries, placing tiny titanium plates to support fractured bone. The brain remains swollen, but the bleeding has been stopped. Now, time will tell.
The stranger is taken to the ICU, still heavily sedated. The ventilator continues its rhythmic whoosh and click, breathing for a body too weak to do so on its own. Bandages swathe his shaven head, hiding the results of the surgeon's handiwork. His broken arm has been set and casted. The burns remain wrapped and oozing, waiting for a specialist.
The staff try not to become too invested in outcomes, but this mysterious patient has captured their curiosity. His clothes and possessions have been bagged as evidence, yielding no clues. All that remains is a strange ring on a chain around his neck, the metal warm to the touch. They can only watch, and wait, hoping their efforts have not been in vain.

Marian Daly, a travel nurse from Canada now on her third month of working in the trauma ICU, makes it in for 6:45 am on the dot to take report on her patient. 

Unidentified man, approximately in his fifties, just operated on for a serious head injury and, for the moment, stabilized, though they won't know more about the extent of the damage until he wakes up. 

The head injury was the most life-threatening, but he's also badly burned, and likely has lung damage from smoke inhalation; even with the support of the ventilator, his oxygen needs have been steadily increasing throughout the night. Marian is pretty worried about that. 

She takes report from the night nurse, and then goes in to have a look at her patient. 

The stranger lies unmoving in the ICU bed, swathed in bandages and surrounded by monitors and pumps. The ventilator forces air into damaged lungs, a rhythmic reminder of the precariousness of life.
Marian reviews his chart and vitals with a practiced eye. The brain surgery seems to have gone well, but his oxygen levels are still dropping despite maximal vent support. His lung function isn't rebounding as hoped. She frowns, adjusting IV drips and making notes for the physician.
Up close, her patient seems almost familiar in a way she can't place. His ring catches the light, the garnet like a drop of blood on his chest. She shakes off the strange sense of deja vu; her job is to keep this man alive, not solve mysteries.
The morning rounds begin, doctors and specialists crowding the small room. The swelling in the brain has decreased slightly, a good sign. But his lung function remains a concern, and the severity of the burns will require surgery as soon as his condition stabilizes. For now, they will keep a close eye on vitals and oxygenation, hoping the next 24 hours brings improvement.
Marian stays at her patient's side through the bustle, recording notes, changing bandages, managing tubes and wires with the ease of long practice. She speaks to him softly now and then, more out of habit than any expectation he might hear. But when she takes his hand to check pulse and temperature, just for a moment she could swear there's the faintest pressure in response. A flicker of hope sparks - if he's beginning to wake, perhaps the worst is behind them. She smiles down at her mysterious charge, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
"Keep fighting," she whispers. "We'll get you through this."

Altarrin drifts through a haze of pain and drugs. He doesn't know where he is, and he can't seem to drag together enough concentration to finish a thought, let alone to open his eyes or use his Othersenses. His head hurts an appalling amount. 

At some point, though, he's distantly aware of a voice. It seems to be coming from a long way off, and he can't actually understand the words. Which is confusing; the Imperial tongue is spoken everywhere in the Empire. 

He tries to open his eyes. 

His eyes open to slits, blinking against the harsh light. The world is a blur of shapes and colors that make no sense. He tries to speak, but there is something in his throat, something forcing air into his lungs. Panic flares as his muddled mind struggles to understand.
A face swims into view above him, haloed by light. He squints, but can't seem to focus. The voice comes again, gentle but urgent. He knows that voice. His eyes drift shut once more.
When next he wakes, the world is slightly clearer. He's no longer in his meeting hall - this place is strange, filled with odd machines and scents. But the voice remains, accompanied now by a hand lightly squeezing his own.
Marian sees his eyes open again, slightly more focused this time. His pulse speeds up, monitors beeping in alarm, and she moves into his line of sight to avoid distressing him further.
"You're in the hospital," she says clearly. "You were badly injured, but you're safe now. We have you on oxygen to help you breathe. Don't try to speak." She keeps her tone calm and steady, hoping to reassure him. His eyes meet hers, and for a moment she sees a flash of understanding. The panic in his expression eases slightly.
His mind struggles to piece together fragments into a whole. The attack, the collapse, the struggle to escape - it comes back in a jumble of sensation and emotion almost too much to bear. But this woman, this...angel...she had saved him. He clings to her hand like a lifeline, anchoring himself against the pain. He swallows hard against the choking thing in his throat, fighting down panic. Her voice tells him to be still, to breathe. He focuses on her face, finding solace in her smile. He is alive. Help has come. The world goes dark once more, but this time, there is peace.