The cold, hard concrete smelled like bleach mingled with the aluminum scent of his own blood, but Paul was relieved to wake up face down on the cement, as opposed to strapped to an operating table or fastened to the wall. He imagined his legs hadn’t been able to hold him when they’d brought him back to his cell, so they’d dumped him here. The pain throughout his body was still unbearable, but his left hand and his abdomen hurt more than anything else.

He was a Healer, though not a very powerful one. His father had dabbled in optometry before he Transformed himself. Afterward, he’d done a little bit...