Darkness, all around was darkness, absolute darkness. Lynch struggled to open his eyes, but all he could see was still darkness.
This was a darkness that even the Eye of Insight couldn't penetrate.
The Mage felt as if he were standing on a vast plain, he could sense the soft grass beneath his feet, but when he looked down, he could only see darkness.
"Where the hell is this?" Lynch crouched down, attempting to feel the ground with his hands. He wobbled and fell to the right.
The Mage rubbed his sore right shoulder and unexpectedly felt a hand—a strong, powerful hand—it was a left hand, his left hand that should have been long gone. Lynch, who had grown accustomed to the heavy refined gold prosthetics on the left side, now found himself unaccustomed to his original arm.
Lynch increasingly found this place strange. First was the pervasive blackness, with even his Eye of Insight rendered useless, and then there was his left hand, surprisingly reappearing.
