Pawn

Nausea, loss of equilibrium, a whirling, a spiral that knows no ends and never will, all that was physical, all that spiritual quaked within, the soul pulled back and crumpled upon itself, the mind wish to escape in thousands of different directions, the spirit falling low, into a pool of arctic water.

There was no heart, no lungs, no guts, and yet, they ceased beating, contracted painfully and twisted themselves into complex knots, even if all was dust, knees buckled, a filthy sensation like sludge dripping and flowing over the bones, all over his body, and yet-

As the headhunter in white experienced a most primal terror, dread without reason, fear without cause, he did not understand any of it, this creeping horror made no sense, there was no attempt to intimidate or suppress him from the opposition, Loimos did not release his presence, no aura was allowed to leak out, nor did he direct bloodlust or killing intent, there was no intent whatsoever.