Mithias lay in his tube, motionless and unconscious. Blood and flesh crawled over the bones of his skull, gradually reforming a face. Black hair began to regrow, each strand setting itself to its previous length. Broken ribs reconnected, and breathing recommenced. Slowly pulling itself together, his body was alive, but his mind was lost in a dream, shared by Martin. 

Mithias observed all of it. He watched with mild curiosity while Martin swallowed the mental representation of a girl's spirit. The girl looked very much like the one that shot one of his swords earlier that night. Mithias tried to recall his fight with Magnus, he tried to recall ANY of reality. He pressed his fingers against his forehead. "None of this is real, Martin. Only you and I are, and we need to wake up." He stopped for a moment, looking around, his brow furrowed in thought. "Listen." He said. "Do you hear it? It's a pulse, a heartbeat. It's all around us." He looked up to the leviathan and clutched a fist. A fire began to spark in Mithias' eyes.