True, the energy doesn't flow through the wood. It flickers into the air, directionless. Azwel finds he can't move, now, but is so cold he doesn't even know it's ice that encases his feet, then his legs, then his torso. He can't feel it biting into his skin. When Harley releases him the energies try to snap back into balance.

It's too much for him. Consciousness whites out entirely.

Whether they resume their balance or not matters little to him. His mind is gone, now. Horrible, boiling light swirls around him, bleeding through reality itself and refracting into colours that don't and, moreover, shouldn't exist. The sound changes again, skirling and rumbling through the air and the ground and the mind every sound and no sound.

Azwel's body shakes violently. But, at least, he's much easier to move, now. That is, until the energy reaches its critical mass.