Eli lay where they had fixed him, his back pressed flat against the surface beneath him while his arms were held in place at his sides by a force that did not touch him and yet did not allow even the smallest shift. The pressure remained constant and evenly distributed across his body, not sharp or crushing, but absolute in a way that made every attempt to move feel pointless before it even began. When he tried to lift his arm, the effort reached his muscles without delay, but nothing followed through into motion, as if something between intention and action had been cut away entirely.
His breathing grew heavier, pulling in uneven bursts that he could not control no matter how much he tried to steady it. Each inhale came faster than the last, and each exhale failed to release the tension building in his chest.
The goblins crowded in close around the table, filling the space with shifting bodies and overlapping movement that pressed inward from every direction. They leaned toward him in uneven waves, some forcing their way closer while others were pushed aside, only for the space to collapse again as more took their place. Their voices rose and fell without pattern, sharp and grating, layered over one another until it became difficult to distinguish where one ended and another began.
One of them forced itself forward until it stood directly over him, its face lowering into his view with a slow, deliberate motion that made no effort to hide what it was doing. Its teeth were cracked and uneven, several worn down into jagged shapes that caught the firelight as it pulled its lips back into a stretched expression. Its breath came in short, wet bursts that carried the smell of rot and something older, something that lingered too long.
Eli tried to turn his head away from it, but the effort failed before it could begin, the same invisible pressure holding him flat against the surface without yielding.
Another goblin reached in from the side and pressed down against his shoulder, its hand shifting slightly as if expecting him to resist. When nothing happened, it let out a short sound and pulled back, only for another to replace it immediately, repeating the same motion with the same result. The contact moved across him in brief, uneven touches, none of them controlled or careful, each one testing something that did not respond the way they seemed to expect.
The pressure of their bodies increased as more leaned in, the edge of the table creaking faintly under the uneven weight. Some of them shifted their attention away from him in brief moments, turning toward the containers along the walls, their posture changing as they studied what lay inside. Their movements slowed there, becoming more focused, as if whatever was held within the thick glass drew a different kind of attention than he did.
Eli barely registered that.
His focus stayed close, fixed on what he could feel.
His fingers tightened slightly against the surface beneath him, the motion small but present in a way it had not been before. The delay between thought and movement remained, but it had shortened enough that he could feel the difference if he concentrated on it. His wrist followed with more difficulty, shifting just enough to confirm that it was no longer completely unresponsive, while his legs remained distant and heavy, as though they belonged to something separate from him.
His heart beat harder with each passing second, the rhythm pressing outward through his chest and into his throat, where he could feel it pulsing against the inside of his skin. The sensation sharpened as his breathing grew more uneven, each inhale catching before forcing its way through.
The noise around him changed.
It did not disappear, but it shifted, the overlapping voices breaking apart as a single sound cut through them with enough force to draw immediate attention. The goblin above him recoiled first, pulling back in a quick, abrupt motion as it turned toward the source. The movement spread outward from that point, each goblin reacting in turn as the pressure around the table loosened in uneven steps.
The shaman stepped forward.
She did not rush, and she did not need to. The goblins nearest her moved without being told, pulling back just enough to create space as she approached. Her posture remained steady, her movement controlled, and when she spoke, the tone carried more weight than anything that had come before it.
It was not loud.
It did not need to be.
Her words cut through the remaining noise, and the goblins responded immediately, their voices dropping into scattered fragments before fading into near silence. A single motion of her hand followed, sharp and deliberate, and that was enough to drive them back further.
Those that lingered too close drew a second word from her, one that came with just enough edge to send them retreating with more urgency. They withdrew toward the doorway in uneven steps, some turning once more toward Eli before stepping out, their expressions shifting in ways that did not lose interest, only distance.
A few paused at the threshold.
Their attention remained fixed on him for a moment longer, their posture still and intent, before they disappeared into the corridor beyond.
The door closed behind them with a dull, solid sound that sealed the room.
The silence that followed did not feel empty, but contained, as though everything that remained inside the space had been narrowed down to a single purpose.
The shaman turned back toward him.
She began to speak again as she walked along the side of the table, her voice lower now, the rhythm steady and measured as it continued without interruption. The words held no meaning for him, but the cadence did, each phrase shaped with control rather than thrown out like the noise he had heard before.
Eli watched her as she moved.
His breathing did not slow.
If anything, it became more uneven, the realization of where he was settling into something heavier with each passing second.
She stopped beside him and raised her hand.
The change came without warning.
It spread over him like a thin layer settling across his body, not heavy, not forceful, but present in a way that altered everything it touched. The air shifted around him, tightening slightly as though something had passed through it and left a trace behind.
Then the light appeared.
It moved across him in a faint, translucent wave, passing over his chest and shoulders before spreading downward across his torso and limbs. Where it passed, it left something visible behind, revealing what lay beneath the surface of his skin.
Thin lines extended through him, branching outward in a complex network that pulsed with a soft golden glow. The motion followed the rhythm of his heart, each beat pushing through the network in a steady surge that he could both see and feel at the same time. Beneath that, his bones stood out in a colder tone, silver and rigid, forming the structure that held everything else in place.
Deeper still, his organs shifted in slow, uneven motion, their shapes defined by a muted purple glow that set them apart from the rest.
His heartbeat grew stronger.
Faster.
He could see it move through him.
The shaman leaned closer, her attention narrowing as she followed the lines of light with careful precision. Her hand moved slowly above his body, stopping at certain points before shifting again, as if tracing something only she could recognize.
She spoke as she observed, her voice steady and uninterrupted.
Then she reached to her side and pulled out a small notebook.
It was worn from use, the surface marked with stains and irregular lines that suggested repeated handling. She opened it quickly and began writing at once, her hand moving rapidly across the page as she continued to speak, her eyes shifting between the glowing structure beneath his skin and the marks she was making.
Eli watched her.
He could not look away.
The light remained over him, unchanged, the network continuing to pulse with each beat of his heart, each movement visible in a way that made it impossible to ignore.
Time stretched.
The only sound came from her voice and the faint scratching of her writing.
Then it stopped.
The notebook snapped shut with a sharp, final sound.
She turned away from him without hesitation and moved toward the containers along the wall.
Eli followed her with his eyes.
At first, they were only shapes, dark forms suspended within a dense green substance that held them in place. The surface did not behave like liquid, resisting movement and maintaining its structure even as faint distortions shifted within.
As she moved closer, the shapes became clearer.
Bodies.
Some were incomplete, others extended beyond what seemed natural, their forms carrying differences that did not resolve into anything familiar. The arrangement was not chaotic, but deliberate, each one held in place with a purpose that was not immediately clear.
She stopped in front of one.
Its overall size was close to his, but the proportions were not.
Its arms extended far beyond what should have been possible, long enough that if it stood upright, they would have reached down near its knees. The rest of its body held a tighter structure, the skin pulled close across bone and muscle without any excess, giving it a form that appeared controlled rather than weakened.
The length of its arms defined it.
Not exaggerated.
Not distorted beyond recognition.
But wrong in a way that settled into the eye and remained there.
Where its eyes should have been, there were two smooth, rounded orbs set deep into its skull, each carrying a faint internal glow. The light did not reflect the fire in the room. It remained contained within itself.
The shaman tapped the container.
The surface shifted.
It did not open outward, but separated, two sections sliding apart with a slow, controlled motion that revealed the substance within more clearly.
It was not liquid.
It held its shape too well.
The green mass remained intact even as the opening formed.
She raised her hand, and a faint glow gathered across her fingers before spreading into her palm. When she reached forward, the substance parted where the light touched it, yielding without resistance while the rest remained firm.
Her hand passed through, followed by her arm.
The glow sharpened as something formed along the edge of her hand, a thin, defined line that moved with precision as she shifted once, then again.
When she withdrew her arm, she brought something with it.
An arm.
Black.
Long.
The structure matched what he had seen, narrow but extended, the proportions stretching beyond what should have functioned, the surface smooth in some places and ridged in others. The skin clung tightly to the form beneath, leaving no space between layers.
She held it carefully, adjusting her grip slightly as she turned back toward him.
Eli watched it come closer.
His breathing broke into shorter pulls, each one sharper than the last.
The shaman stopped beside the table and raised the arm slightly, holding it within his view as she spoke again, her tone steady and measured.
Eli tried to respond.
Tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
His throat tightened, the effort failing before it could become sound.
The shaman's head tilted slightly.
Then she smiled.
The change showed in the way she held herself, in the subtle shift of her posture as she lowered the arm.
Her hand lifted.
Light gathered again, this time focusing along a single finger as she brought it toward him.
Eli could not move.
He could not turn.
He could only watch as her hand came closer, the glow tightening at the tip of her finger as it hovered just above his forehead.
Then her finger touched his forehead.