Those fingers twitch. That body takes breath. There's a gargled clicking in his throat.

And then, the Initiate's hand goes forward, claws digging into the earth and scratching on stone, as that body seek pulling itself up. The next inhale is terrible sort of wheeze, just short of an ill keening. Blood spills on his legs, from the great gash in his chest, where the axe sunk in. For a long moment, there's just faint shuddering breaths, as what ever medical care Sam just tried to give is interrupted.

Then the peg leg scrapes along the floor, as slowly, the Initiate's body attempts to rise. His head lifts last, eyes no longer a warm honey-gold, but perfect glowing yellow. The indigo in his irises have washed out to something paler. They seem not to focus until they fall on Albert and Sam. The Initiate's head tilts at them.

Then, going back, an unearthly shriek fills the air. The daywalker lunges forward.