Lancet remained on his hands and knees for a moment, gasping raggedly. The physical world around him felt slightly tilted, his vision swimming as the lingering echoes of Muskard's cursed spirit slowly drained from his cerebral cortex.
He dragged a trembling sleeve across his face, aggressively wiping away the involuntary tears the psychic torture had forced out of him.
He stayed there for a long minute, just listening to the erratic thumping of his own heart, letting the cool night air soothe his burning skin.
Finally, the ringing in his ears stopped.
Lancet let out a long, shaky exhale. He looked down at the black card on the floor. The silver emblem of a coiled serpent on a winged sword. He snatched it up, his grip tightening around the edges.
Slowly, using the stone wall for support, Lancet pushed himself to his feet. His legs felt like lead, but he stood tall. He looked up at the dark, sloped rooftop of the adjacent dormitory building.
