[Aethel]
Aelfric's boots pressed against the dampened earth, each step sinking slightly into the moss-laden ground, a crunch accompanying his every step. He moved with slow strides, but his mind—his mind was far from steady.
The air here was different. The presence of the Bringer of Death had faded, but it still clung to him, nestled into the marrow of his bones.
And yet, it was done, he had secured it. Immortality just like that, it had been too easy. Far too easy and that unsettled him. Aelfric's gaze flickered downward, to his own hands. They looked the same. He clenched his fingers, releasing them, feeling the familiar tension of muscle and tendons beneath his skin.
There was no difference, no great revelation, no grand metamorphosis. But something had changed. Hadn't it?
He blinked, recalling the moment—the sensation—as his soul was taken, it had been instantaneous. Seamless, like breathing. One second it had been there—his and the next, it was simply… gone.
No pain.
