As expected, Gorath's blood worked its magic.
The change was subtle at first—a slow pulse beneath Darius's skin, a faint tremor running through his broken body—but the results began to show. The wounds closed. Torn muscles reknit. Bones stopped grinding painfully against one another.
But it wasn't automatic.
Damien himself had to guide the raw, unruly essence as it surged through Darius's frame. Left unchecked, the overwhelming vitality could just as easily have torn him apart from the inside, flooding his damaged body until it collapsed under the strain. Without Damien's careful control, healing could have turned into a cruel death.
Meanwhile, Gorath was reeling from the consequences of what he'd just done.
What… did I just do?
The thought struck him like a hammer, cold and unrelenting.
