Lucian's mind grew dazed and distant as the weight of a hundred dead men and their armor pushed against him, the downward pressure like a compressive force.
'Why is it so much worse in the inner city?' The thought had no weight or focus, a passing breeze in his unfocused mind.
Distantly, he could hear muffled cries of pain along with popping and cracking, sounds so reminiscent of his own body beneath the sun. Somewhere in his dazed mind, the pressure and weight of all the dead men piled upon him felt like the pressure he felt shielding himself from in the day.
'Need to escape... the sun.' He extended a hand in his mind for the world of shadow, as if calling out to it, and felt himself make contact. It was somehow different from the usual way he entered that world, rather than visualizing the flipping of a mirror, he simply reached out for it, requested entry, and felt something pulling him in, accepting his return.