By the time Syrlya is done, Ignatius is looking pretty faint. He's now mostly free, besides the wired crown, though his body had been completely mutilated by the process. The crown is rooted into his skull with wires in a few different places, but otherwise not attached. As Herbert works on it, Ignatius rolls onto his side, breathing shallowly and trying to summon up enough energy to repair his arm.

Fiery energy swirls in a shape approximating a limb, but he seems to be lacking the strength to make it something solid. His skin is still an ugly purple, and despite being disconnected from the blue tubing, his eyes are still hazy purple. It's still in his system, and it doesn't seem like it's going to resolve itself quickly.

But he wants to get up. He wants to get out of here, but like this he can't even stand. He looks at Rita, whose had her hand on his shoulder this whole time, but he's only now finding enough clarity to put it all together. With jack removed from his head everything is quieter.

"You made it," he says foggily, like he's about to pass out.