Screech
The screech continued as Agon's body convulse unnaturally on the cracked shimmering surface of the void, his breath ragging, his eyes opened wide. His apparent death began to fracture.
His chest heaved unnaturally, a gasp that sounded like a broken machine struggling to start. His arms jerked upward, twisting at impossible angles with a sickening crack. Bone realigned itself unsettling beneath torn skin. The muscles seemed to ripple and harden, like they were being forged anew in the fires of torment.
Crack.
The other arm followed suit, the sound of splintered bone accompanied by an unsettling shift in its texture. Agon's skin ashen, becoming a warped amalgamation of light flesh and mist. His legs, once mangled beyond repair, twisted unnaturally, snapping back into place with the speed of a predator's joints. It was as if the very grief that had broken him was now reforging him, each movement carrying the weight of all he had endured.
