Elian blinked hard, grit scratching under his eyelids.
The air burned dry in his throat as he dragged himself upright.
The endless sandy desert stretched out, the dark gloomy sky above them.
His grave sat half-collapsed beside him, the sand still loose where the scythe had torn through.
He turned to the shadowed figure, who stood before him.
"Just how long have I been dead?"
My body feels fine. My ribs hurt though. I survived.
His mind flashed back to the moment Hanita pulled a trick on him. He felt every bit of pain crawl through him again. The sharp burn in his chest as his lungs refused to draw air, the tightness spreading through his ribs until every breath turned shallow and useless.
And the weight of something heavy slamming into his heart…
He shook his head, trying to push that thought away, now breathing steady.
Hanita.
You'll pay for this… every bit of it.
Elian's gaze snapped back to the Tormentor.
