Finally, Koschei’s body heaves itself onto the safer parts of the floor, on the side near the opposite door, which is strangely open. Koschei rolls outside the room, leaving a trail of blood, and the door slips shut again.
“See, Kos? I told you I’d... save... you. I told... you I would.”
The Flesh Valeyard telekinetically unclenches his fist, having severed both his brachial arteries holding onto the shards that way; on the upside, his palm reveals a charred and bloodied golden treasure.
Again, he uses telekinesis to twist the Ring into his finger, succumbing to the blood loss just as the Ring quick-jumps him into the Panopticon... his arms spasm and throw themselves about from the lack of blood; a superior vascular reflex inherent in any Time Lord. But that reflex knocks his nearly unconscious body straight into the Pythia’s path. Her path through the Mirror is the last thing he sees before his dimming eyes fail him.
He is close to passing out; the brachials will be slow to drain him dry, but drain him they will. He’s going to die.
Blinking, he lies back, curling slightly, both arms wrapped underneath him in an awkward sort of stand, as though he were a glass orb in a carnival gypsy’s stall.
He blinks again, staring at the wall for something to do whilst exsanguinating.
What? The engine room walls aren’t white! And the door was there before...