A voice materialized through the torment: "Who are you?"
He opened his eyes and attempted to focus, but everything was blurry, unclear.
"You are injured. Close your eyes."
He obliged, and freezing cold fingers gripped his temples. A flash of purple light exploded across the darkened walls of his mind, and soothing tendrils of heat spread downwards from his head and warmed his aching limbs.
These six sentences are a continuation from last week's. More from the opening chapter of Eye of the Dome next week. Thanks for stopping by, and don't forget to head over to Six Sunday and check all the short, syrupy posts from all the fine writers.