The valravn's flailing slices up their thigh, tearing their hose and gouging a deep scratch in their leg. Huǒ grunts and rolls. Another wave of invisible slashes strikes the floor an inch away from their head, taking a chip out of it. Huǒ glimpses the face again - his eyes bright; the smile on his lips suddenly nasty.

Barely managing to keep themself in the moment, the page shouts to the typewriter: "We need to keep him from struggling, before one of us loses a head!" Fear churns in their stomach, and the darkness forces them into tunnel vision.