A different ache started deep in his gut and spread outward, clawing up his chest and into his throat until it felt as though his insides were being scorched with flames. Casilo gasped, lungs dragging in air that did nothing to ease the agony. The feeling was unbearable. His tongue felt thick, useless, pressed too large against his teeth.
Not the dull ache he sometimes ignored when he got injured in a fight. This was sharp and consuming, a need so absolute it drowned out nearly everything else.
His eyes flew open.
For a few heartbeats, the world was nothing but blurred shapes and light. The ceiling swam above him, unfamiliar, and his tensed muscles screamed in protest.
He attempted to sit up and barely managed a strained twitch. That was when he realized he couldn't move his arms.
