Howl is anticipating retaliation for what he's just said. The tears prompt him to take a nervous step away and he bites his tongue as Emet-Selch seems to be ramping up to something. As he'd feared, the room around them starts to change for the second time, and Howl stands poised for anything — whatever horrible magic spell or legion of imagined soldiers the Ascian's mind might subject him to next. And he has no idea whether his cruel words have actually worked or not.

The young wizard has little time to digest the dark water around his ankles or the structures towering in the murky distance. The psychic assault of emotion hits him so hard, it's as if he's crashing into the ground again. This isn't physical pain, though, it's even deeper than that, inescapable, the sort of pain that does not heal or fade with time, but languishes, unresolved. This same sorrow has been permeating the air since Emet-Selch drew them into this memory, but here it is in full force, pure and undiluted.

The first time Howl felt this sadness, it brought him to tears. Now, he's trembling as the world blurs around him. After a moment, he drops to his knees into the black at his feet, splashing down with his hands to stop his fall. But there is not exactly a floor beneath the pool... it feels like... sand, or muck...

"Emet, p-please," Howl gasps. When he squeezes his eyes shut, tears drop into the water beneath him. "I understand... I do understand.... stop this already...!"