As the sword disappears, Ignatius chokes out a gasp, his shoulders jerking with the sudden change in sensation. Flickers of flame and heat bleed from the open wound, making the water bubble and sizzle around it. He barely looks like himself, after all of this, with his flames drowned, his body held down in chains.

He doesn't look up from the ground, still bent over his knees. He's pretty sure he knows what's coming next, and he isn't going to fight it. He's done.