The elevator ride down from the Arena was a long, rattling descent into the roots of the mountain.
Reed leaned his forehead against the cold iron grate of the cage, closing his eyes. The vibration of the chains rattled his teeth, sending fresh spikes of agony through his battered torso. His body felt like it had been run through a grain thresher and then reassembled by a toddler with a glue gun.
His ribs throbbed with a dull, aching pulse where Seraphine had squeezed him just a little too hard during her "epiphany." His left shoulder clicked audibly every time the elevator shuddered past a rock seam. His mana reserves were scraping the bottom of the barrel, leaving him with that hollow, shaky feeling that came from burning too much magic on an empty stomach.
"I am going to put a suggestion box in the lobby," Reed muttered to the empty shaft. "Suggestion number one: Stop trying to hug the Dungeon Master to death."
He shifted his weight, wincing as his hip popped.
