He woke with a gasp as his heart started pumping blood through his body once more!
Micheal didn't know how long he'd been unconscious.
His body ached—not in the way a sword wound hurt or how exhaustion seeped into bones after battle.
No, this pain was deeper.
The type of ache one only feels when their Ki is forcefully drained—siphoned from the core outward, leaving behind a hollow shell and a faint whisper of what used to be strength.
When Michael opened his eyes, the world was dim.
Not because of a lack of light, but because of the oppressive atmosphere pressing against his spirit.
The floor beneath him was black marble, polished so clean it reflected the silver lines of the reinforced cage that held him like a mirror.
Faint violet torches burned on the walls outside the bars, casting long shadows over the intricately-carved demonic sigils etched into the stone.
He lay within a prison unlike anything he'd seen before.
