A ringing sound pierced through his skull. The world swam in and out of focus, light and shadow smearing together as though someone had dragged a wet brush through his vision.
For a moment, Ryn remembered he was standing, looking out…but the next, he was on the ground.
Cold stone pressed against his cheek, his cloak damp with water. He tried to inhale, but his breath caught halfway before he coughed it back out again.
With sheer will, he managed to push himself up. His arms trembled, not from weakness this time but from the residual shock.
Ryn turned his head, trying to look for the others. A form to his right, Taylor, was half-sprawled against a broken crate, her clipboard just several feet away.
Jay was a bit closer, flat on his back, one arm thrown over his head to protect it from something. His glasses were askew, eyes barely open.
It seemed like Jay was muttering something, but he couldn't hear them. The ringing drowned everything.
