A drape hit Nova's solar plexus, as if throwing a jab, knocking him out cold. All the accumulated pain that he had ignored from the holes created in his body by the drapes seeped through like venom.
He went unconscious for a brief second. His eyes were slowly closing, and a smile crept on his face as he faded into oblivion.
As the darkness pressed in, heavy and suffocating, as if drowning, Nova's body refused to respond. His chest barely rose; every breath he took was fragile, as if it might be his last.
He could still hear the goblin's snarls, the wings of the drapes beating the air like an excellent pancake batter mix. But all those noises started to sound distant, fading into the void that cuddled with him.
His fingers twitched weakly around the dagger's hilt, though it no longer felt like his own.
