Agony.

Anguish at a level so harrowing I'd forgotten it was even possible filled my mind. I grasped at the flow of time out of reflex when I felt the initial shock of pain, and that had served to make this experience unbearable. I felt my bone splinter, a web-like pattern of fractures that were all too similar to that of the spell, spread across the bone. Energy welled up inside the marrow, forcing its way outward through the cracks, parting them violently. My leg burned, the intolerable pain of mana entering my body without an anchor. The burn became stabs of white emptiness in my mind as shards of bone cut out through my leg. The fabric-like structure of my flesh tore, the wrappings splitting in all the wrong ways. I could feel the viscera of my leg bursting out of those tears, shredding them further, and as it did, my ailing mind went blank, the slow suffering preventing me from forming any thoughts.

When I could think again, I felt weak, my body refusing to heed my commands. I tried to see the damage, but the scene was blurry, the colors faded. I could tell my left leg was gone, and I was on my side, but I couldn't think or see past that point. My mind was fuzzy; the lens of my reality felt unfocused. I tried pushing up, to inspect myself, but my arms gave out from beneath me. I couldn't move, and my senses were going fuzzy. I heard ringing, despite not having ears, and I felt cold, something I hadn't felt in years. I couldn't think or move, and after a few seconds, I noticed a black puddle forming around me. I was losing whatever passed for blood in my body, and for reasons I couldn't comprehend, it was impacting all of me.

I reached for my mana reserve, trying to form a spell to burn the stump of my leg. I grasped out with my mind and found nothing; my reserve was empty, despite my thoughts that it should have had enough for a spell. I tried to tilt my head and call out to Scales. I gathered air into my lungs, but when I went to speak, the damage around my neck reared its head; my throat was in shambles as much as my leg. I tried to wave my arms about, attempting to get Scales' attention, but the flap turned into a slight jolt, barely lifting my hand from the stone. My world was spinning as I tried to crawl with what little strength I had. Scraping, scratching, feeble, painful, agonizing movements is all I managed, the only result being the fingertips of my gloves ripping open and my clawed fingers digging into the stone.

I couldn't communicate; my hands refused to cooperate to scratch words into the stone. My mind was fading; each thought something I had to fight through a fog to form. The pain in my leg faded, so too did my grip on reality. I would have thought I was slipping back to the sea of thought if not for the absence of all other signs. The only thing I could liken this to was blood loss, something I'd thought this body was immune to. Whatever price the web enacted on me, it was far more than the loss of my leg.

As I came to that realization, the world went dark.

I awoke with a slanted ceiling over my head, one of plain, unpainted wood. In this city, I'd have likened the sight to the dwelling of a less than affluent individual. This time though, it appeared that I was in a space generally used for storage, not a regular bedroom space. The world around me was still blurry, so the most I could make out was the shape of boxes and furniture. At the far end of the room was what I assumed was a window, light pouring into the room from that area, but I failed to identify anything beyond it.

I found my body weak; any attempt to sit up failed, and anything less intense was slow and lethargic. I could lift my arms, but keeping them raised proved difficult. While I could look around, it held little meaning with how blurry the world appeared and without the ability to do more than turn my head to the sides.

I didn't know what happened, how I got here, or anything useful. But I didn't have the energy to think about those questions. So once again, the world turned dark, this time without the ache of dulling pain.

"Well, you've gone and messed up, haven't you?" He used my old voice to mock me. "I did some poking about while you slept, but I won't be telling you what I found." He waved information in front of me like cheese for a rat. "I will tell you this, though; whatever it is, I wasn't caught up in it. It's to such a degree that the leg even regrows when I take control, but it rots off the second I leave." He chuckled at my misfortune. "I'd imagine it has something to do with being an unbound mind, so I wasn't involved in that little stunt you pulled according to whatever rules it follows. That is your area of expertise, however, so I won't think on it too much." He was too chipper, and it annoyed me, but I could do little about his mood.

"Why not take advantage of this?" I asked him a question, something I do my best to avoid doing. "If I am here, you could take over and go have your fun," I told him what I would have done in his position.

"Oh, I was going to, but I have a feeling that if I wait, I'll get a much better opportunity than this. Besides, why waste the chance to mock you, oh powerful one. Kehahah" His real voice slipped out as he cackled at me. It felt slimy, laced with dark emotion, and a lust for something, something I couldn't pin down. "Well, You'd better head back soon; make sure to give me a good show." He twisted my voice, filling it with oily satisfaction.

I hated to take his charity, it had almost always come at some unseen cost, but I had no idea how long I'd been out before arriving here, so I would take this chance, even if it was him granting it.

I awoke to the same room, the same slanted unfinished ceiling, and what appeared to be the same bed. Unlike before, I could make out more details about the room; my senses no longer fogged as before. Looking around was significantly more manageable now; the effort of sitting up to do so was no longer beyond me. I saw crates and dusty furniture, accurate to my initial impressions. I could make out handprints and streaks in the dust, indicating several of the boxes were moved recently, and someone had dusted a few chairs completely clean, as if to use them.

I still couldn't see past the window at the end of the room, but in no fault to my senses. The glass was caked in a thick layer of dust, leaving it barely capable of letting light into the space, let alone any detail of what lay beyond. I could see a set of collapsing stairs, seemingly attached to a hatch, and a few boot prints leading from that hatch to the bed where I now sat.

Inspecting myself, I found most of my clothes intact. My coat was sticky with the black tar-like substance of my blood, but I could clean that. My pants were only half intact, the left leg was shredded and empty, and the other side had various other marks from the incident. My gloves would need replacement, the fingers far worse than I'd imagine, my black fingers poking through the ends like needles. The half rebuilt frame under my coat was functional and still holding my mask in place; I felt some manner of satisfaction that I hadn't begun the reconstruction of the lower half as of yet.

When I turned my attention to my wound and the inside of my body, I was less than pleased with my findings. Whoever carried me to this bed had taken the time to wrap my wounded leg in white gauze. Or at least I presumed it was white; at this point, it was dyed blackish-grey by the fluid leaking from the wound. Even now, the stump-like formation was damp and gooey, but I dared not unwrap it to see the actual state beneath. More abstractly, I found my body less ethereal than it had ever felt. I had a pulse, despite all other indications that the heart-like organ in my chest was only for show. I could feel itching all across my body, like specs of dirt rubbing against my skin, despite said skin being comprised of wrapped up cloth. I could still feel the obscurations around me and hear things through them, but that connection felt muted and dull. I felt weakened, but I also felt an odd inkling of something I'd forgotten, the ability to grow.

I didn't dare celebrate this, as I had no evidence to prove this feeling as accurate. But, I let the hope take up residence in my mind, alongside the trepidation to the current weakened state I found myself in. Cataloging these thoughts for later and all others tied to them, I got up from the bed.

Or at least I tried to before the lack of practice using only one leg became apparent, and I fell forward onto the floor with a loud bang.

This would take some getting used to, but before I could begin with that process, my attention was grabbed by the sound of movement from the hatch to the room.