From the ground, Morpheus slowly pulled the small object from his palm. His fingers trembled as he loosened them, revealing what he had instinctively protected when his body struck the marbled floor beneath him which had cracked and now puddled with his own blood.
The ring had been trapped beneath him, pressed between stone and bone, nearly crushed by the impact of his fall.
Pain spread through his body in sharp, stinging pulses, aching in a burning pain. His ribs ached from where it had broken, his knees fractured and felt as though it had been ground to dust. His head throbbed violently where blood continued to spill down his temple, slipping into his eyes and staining his vision red. Yet none of it held his attention for long.
His gaze fixed on the ring.
