“Ouch," Lucas screamed into consciousness.
His wrists were in sharp pain, the rope burning against his skin.
The stone pressed against his cheek, cold and damp, while water billowed like a clock would appear in the absence of light.
Lucas tried to sit up, but his ankles were tightly tied, causing his legs to fire up. The surrounding ropes caused the problem to occur.
"Mama?" His voice cracked, barely a whisper in the suffocating black.
No one answered back.
He had no sensation in his fingers, as if they were asleep. The rough fibers pinched deeper when he stretched them.
Panic clawed at his chest. He closed his eyes and started to feel the warmth inside him. But there was nothing there.
There was a cold, empty space where his magic could be found. He couldn't use his powers.
