Robed and draped in fleece a man carried a strange bend of metal in hand. He appeared alive and not within a moment. Bodily soured and milk white the remains of his flesh hung, the rest chemical lines and feeding tubes. His jaw reworked and removed allowed for a breathing tube; this shell mouldered in death. His eye though burned fervent and alive, fanatical and dreadful. Some followed behind attending the devices to which he was tethered. Naeliim ran on more wildly and headlong desperate.
He looked back and the strange field had claimed more ground, and again still more. With each bit of distance he threw his eyes back only to find it nearer. Finally he did not look but ran and ran until it finally overtook him. His movements halted to quiet slow wonder. Those around slowed but Naeliim did not, moved about them gazing. Shaking and shouting at the souls lost and finding himself singular. The lasted breaths then the snow of filaments weaved through the light. Birthed of no particular origin the threads swam the body of the field. Touching lightly on his skin and weaving into some encasement or cocoon.