Slowly, a headache built up. Mithias would feel a pressure building in the back of his head. Perhaps it had been the stress of recent happenings, the discovery of Martin's act of ascension, or perhaps the psionic wail had had more of an impact than Mithias had at first thought. However, without any explanation forthcoming, the headache slowly grew out, expanding forward into the front of your brain as your vision begins blurring. Pounding and swirling in your skull without relent, as moving becomes harder and harder to do, even as the pain reaches unspeakable levels. Two small streams of blood trickle slowly down your face, a streak of red upon the white skin of the undead, as tears of blood flow from your eyes.

As if, under this inexplicable force, your mind had finally collapsed, everything before Mithias's eyes turned to.... grey. As his vision clears, and Mithias has the presence of mind to observe his surroundings, he finds himself sitting on a rather comfortable chair, surrounded by the smell of roasted chicken. The room is brightly lit, the steel walls reflecting the light from the neon lights affixed to the cieling, running in beams across it. Before Mithias is a table covered in platters of food, the source of the smell, although somehow you can smell nothing but chicken, the smell somehow sickening. However, as your eyes are cast across the room, you see Stein, as he wolfs down a chicken wing, licking his fingers. "Ah, Mithias. It's about time you joined me. Could I offer you some chicken, perhaps?" Stein's smile, although partially innocent, is laden with smug superiority, his eyes like daggers.