When Baines woke again, the first thing he noticed was the silence inside himself.
No ache, lingering soreness, or even the pounding heart that reminded him he was still alive.
His breath came shallow and slow. Each inhale stretched unnaturally long, as if his body was reluctant to waste the air.
He remained still, waiting for pain to catch up or something to reassure him that he hadn't crossed a line he couldn't return from.
Yet nothing came.
"What…?" His voice scraped out thinly, more a release of air than a sound.
He pressed a hand to his chest. His heart was there; he could see the faint rise and fall his chest made, but he couldn't feel it. There was no thud, no rhythm.
"…Why?" The word trembled out of him. "Why can't I feel anything?"
It wasn't numbness. That was the terrifying part. His body didn't feel asleep or dull, rather it felt like something was missing, as if the space it occupied had been hollowed out and left behind.
Cold crept up his spine.
"Is this… the smoke's doing?" he whispered. He couldn't understand. The lingering pain from the previous bruises, his heartbeat, blood, bones, muscles, toppled with the empty thoughts, everything felt hollow. He couldn't feel any of them.
He dragged his fingers across the stone floor. The rough surface scraped his skin, leaving faint red lines across his palm. He watched it happen. He knew it should hurt.
Yet it didn't. There wasn't even a sensation of it happening.
His breath hitched. 'How is this possible?'
"Eye?" His voice tightened. "What's happening to me?"
Silence answered.
"Eye?" he tried again, louder this time, only to stop.
The air.
It dawned on him not as a thought, but as a realization carried on instinct.
He wasn't breathing the way he used to. His chest barely moved, each breath drawn out far longer than normal, measured and careful, like his body had learned that air was no longer something to be taken freely.
After taking one breath, seconds passed before he took in another. His heartbeat, once frantic in this place, had slowed to match the rhythm.
"…So that's it," he murmured. "You changed me."
His body had adjusted itself to maximize the air available, cutting his breathing process.
The realization made his shoulders sag. Another realization was that even talking was difficult.
'So, I can't even talk anymore, even if I want to?' he thought bitterly.
Each restriction stacked atop the last like a closing vice. He hadn't even finished getting used to his surroundings, yet his restrictions only kept increasing.
At first, he couldn't see due to the darkness, then he couldn't hear sounds as a result of the black smoke. As if it wasn't enough, he couldn't even take a step outside lest he forfeit his life.
Though he could still speak, at least away from the statues, now, if he wanted to survive, he couldn't speak out again.
'It's all because of that damn smoke,' he thought, anger simmering under the numbness. 'And I can't even ask Eye what it's done to me.'
Now his mind was calmer, and he remembered its last words. It took a temporary shutdown due to a forced integration.
With no other choice, Baines sank back against the cave wall, staring into the dark. The cave felt smaller now. Not because it had changed, but because he had.
"…Alright," he thought, forcing himself to stay steady. "What now?"
His gaze drifted instinctively toward the supplies.
"…Should I eat?" The thought came automatically. He didn't know how long he had been out for, but he was supposed to be hungry. Yet, he felt hollow in his stomach, the same unsettling emptiness.
And then he saw it.
One of the sacks lay tipped on its side.
"No." His breath caught. "No, no—"
He lunged forward, forgetting himself, hands scrambling toward the spill.
It was too late.
Grains had scattered across the uneven floor, rolling into the deep fissures that split the stone. And the amount was just too many, far too many.
He froze, staring as the last few grains vanished into cracks too narrow for his fingers to reach.
His hand rose to cover his mouth, trapping the sound of the scream that clawed its way up his throat.
Just like that, half a month's worth of food was gone.