No rest for the weary, it seemed. Solomon tried to push himself to his feet and had to stop at the wet sensation in his chest when he took a slightly deeper breath. That ... wasn't good. Solomon knew from experience that if pushed too far toward death his own magic would feed on it, and at this stage that meant Malicant would feed on it--and that would be extremely bad.

They had to end this, and quickly, before they had further problems on their hands. With the grim determination of will Solomon pushed himself to his feet and let the Vilii Stone turn into a whip in his hand--the most effective weapon he had, leaving aside the lion.

At first Solomon thought the dizziness and darkness was just a matter of his body reaching its limit. Then he realised that the walls of the tunnel were warping and pulling him away from the others, and Malicant's words to Khan seemed at first thunderingly loud and then fading to unnatural dimness. It all faded to an unnatural dimness, and Solomon wasn't sure if it was a result of his need to be distant from Malicant's influence, of needing the space to breathe, or Malicant himself trying to remove the most level-headed combatant.

Regardless, the scene of battle faded as if he'd been shoved out of the arena and into the grogginess of the Dreaming proper, and with something like resignation he gave up the struggle to remain conscious. As long as he was too far for Malicant to get hold of him again--or Malicant was too busy to do so.