"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!!! Ahhh, my hand!" Lord Zeke cried out in agony.
For someone who had rarely experienced pain, the loss of a limb was unbearable. The two—Astra and the Shadowshifter—couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his suffering.
"L-Lord Zeke, please be calm," the apostle urged, sheathing her sword and rushing to his side. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on him, invoking a healing spell.
"Holy light of healing," she chanted, and tiny balls of light began to dance and radiate around Zeke. His arm started to glow, and the wound closed, ceasing the flow of blood and the pain.
However, his hand remained missing.
"My hand! What of my hand!" Zeke demanded, his anger and desperation evident.
"I've provided first aid treatment. Full restoration must wait until we've secured these two and are in a safe location," the apostle explained.
"No! Do it now! I want my hand now!" He yelled, his impatience palpable.
