He opened his eyes in confusion. He was still here. Still breathing.
Still alive!
The glowing formation above him flickered and vanished.
He stared at his hands as if they were foreign limbs, horror stretching across his face.
"What?! Why am I still alive?"
Ren shut her eyes. Her chest was so tight it felt as though it might break. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
Then, from above, the voice of Xakiel boomed once more, cold and final:
"Your punishment is to live your final days without the dragon's magic core. Go back and live as a commoner. The gods healed your spinal cord, mortal human."
Benkin trembled, not with pain, not even with rage. With longing for his wife.
"Please… let me join Anarya," he pleaded with him, his voice breaking like dry leaves in the wind.
But the Fae King said nothing more. He turned away, his silvery cloak swaying behind him.
