Bernard's body lay extended on the stone floor, heavy, clumsy even in stillness. His chest rose and fell with difficulty, each breath noisier than the previous. Sweat soaked his forehead and descended down the sides of his round face, mixing with dirt and dust he had raised during the struggle. Where before there had been gleaming rings, now only severed fingers remained, blackened at the edges, with metal remains adhered to flesh.
He dragged himself a few centimeters, without clear direction, until his back collided with the base of an overturned table. The impact tore a dry gasp from him. He tried to stand up, but his arms failed and he ended up supported on his side, with gaze raised toward the figure before him.
Lloyd hadn't moved.
