Miryk's eyes were starting to pick up more of the light. As life flowed through him again, his broken body began to respond and he was barely able to muster the will to turn his head. A broken form remained hunched over in each of the cells to his left, and the visiting pair seemed most concerned with the one furthest from him. The chittered back and forth like squirrels, until a blazing sword came into view. Miryks half expected the blade to slice deep into the other, but the lamb sought a matched foe. The clatter of iron bars hitting the ground, almost drowned out the squeaks of indignation. A smile graced Miryk's lips as the blinding light continued it's path down the hall, eventually severing the bars on his own cage. Miryk's eyes widened in surprise as flames, not flesh, filled the suit that broke his bars.

The pair resumed their scolding, but this time there was value to their words. They were in an undocumented tainted region, the scale of which was currently unknown. The fools had thrown logic to the wind and had blown themselves through four planes. The flaming suit of armor was likely the cause of the burning, the way he blustered and paraded around.

As his eyes grew used to the shadows, it was with a small note of displeasure that Miryks saw the broken body in that third cage rise and stagger to its feet. Whatever foul curse was upon them was starting to wane. Miryks allowed himself another small smile, noting that his body was responding more fluidly now. He managed to stagger to his feet, before his head started to swim and he fell to one knee.

Patience, said the voice. Strength will come.

While his body still recovered, Miryks allowed his mind to take in the scene. His vision now almost restored, his gaze cut through the gloom as easily as if they were under a cloudless sky in the midday sun. The key to survival was to recognize the path, see the pitfalls before your feet found them. The lambs continued to bleat while Miryks allowed his eyes to tell a much greater story.