Grace woke suddenly, calm and collected. She had long ago learned to wake from her trances with a clear mind, and that talent saved her now. She pressed against the confines of her darkness, determining they were wooden. She heard the chaos outside her temporary cell, and knew she was in danger, so her right arm lashed out, stone shattering wood as her false limb battered against the yielding coffin lid. Gripping the edges of her box, she pushed upright, taking off her right glove and checking the runes engraved in the living stone.

"I doubt they knew about my arm and leg, else I would no longer have them..." She mused to herself, satisfied that all her etchings were in good order. Three of them still glowed with the souls they contained, temporary housing until she could build them new bodies. The rest had been destroyed when she was captured, and for a moment sadness welled in her chest, but she let it go with a prayer for their well being.

Grace pulled herself out of her coffin, wedged into a corner of the room, and took stock of the situation. There was no word for it but chaos, and she had no inkling of what was happening, but could feel the anguished souls of the recently killed. This was not a place for any soul, living or dead, and she protectively clutched at the wrist of her right arm. She hurried, hunched over, to where she saw other humans, but said nothing to them, trying to understand what was happening first.