Back in the underground cavern, the air in the subterranean deeps tasted of iron, stale moisture and calcified decay.
But as Valerius stood over the prone form of Morgan, something changed. The air turned dry, metallic, and strangely sweet with the scent of ozone.
Nothing about Morgan's body had physically shifted. He lay on his back upon the jagged bedrock, his hands resting loose near his sides, his chest rising and falling in the slow, shallow cadence of deep unconsciousness.
His dark hair was matted with sweat and the tattered edges of his coat were dark with dried blood.
Yet Valerius felt every hair on the back of his neck stand up. The Lord of Moreus stared at the unconscious youth curiously, regarding him silently for several moments.
The space surrounding Morgan's body subtly warped, the shadows around him slowly growing deeper and darker.
