And Amon…
He was barely holding together.
His skull was fractured down the middle, jagged cracks running through the bone. One arm and a leg were gone entirely, severed clean away, while his ribs jutted out in splintered fragments, half his torso missing as if it had been chewed apart. He had lost nearly half his body, and yet—somehow—he still clung to existence.
The undead husk lay sprawled across the ruined earth, snarling through broken teeth. It wasn't life that kept him moving anymore, it was pure, cursed tenacity.
The pendant flared again, desperate. Crimson light bled across his chest, pulsing in rapid succession as if trying to force his body to mend.
But then… nothing.
The wounds didn't close. The flesh didn't knit. The rift's energy had done something the pendant couldn't undo.
Undead Amon twitched, his tendons pulling taut as he tried to rise, but his form remained ruined, his regeneration stalled completely.
