Cliff woke with a start, his breath heavy as though he had just run for miles. He looked around, immediately recognizing the interior of his tent. Letting out a deep sigh, he sat up slowly, his body aching from recent exertions.
Stretching carefully to ease his stiff muscles, he tried to recall recent events. The memories of the battle came rushing back, followed by his collapse after defeating the Scourge.
His eyes landed on the essence stone, carefully placed on his neatly folded clothes nearby. Picking it up, he ran his fingers over its smooth, cold surface.
"If I keep passing out after every fight, they're going to start calling me 'The Sleeping Sovereign,'" he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with self-deprecation.
A chuckle came from the tent's entrance. Rakahn, who had just entered, clearly overheard him.
