Nico collapsed out of the bronze jar, too weak to stand, his body trembling violently, pale and clammy as if every ounce of life had been drained from him. He curled in on himself, clutching his chest and gasping for breath, dark eyes darting wildly, unfocused, scanning for threats that might not exist. Every movement was shaky, every breath ragged, as exhaustion and terror consumed him. His arms instinctively rose to shield his head, his body coiled in a protective instinct, fragile but alive.