In a repetition of events, the silver-black candle flame once again solidified into a beam of light, striking Lumian's left chest, already wracked with agony and turmoil.
Amidst the pervading gray fog and the unsettling black wind, a silvery-black illusionary liquid began to trickle out.
At some elusive point in time, Lumian's pain and vertigo faded into insignificance. He felt as though he had transformed into an entirely different entity.
Standing in the wilderness, he gripped a wooden bow in his hand and released an arrow that gleamed with a blue radiance toward his aerial target.
Lumian vaguely remembered who he was, but he felt that everything was extremely real and he was experiencing it.
The keen, spectral-blue arrow cut through the sky, finding its mark in the belly of a dusky vulture.
