Of course, Michael wasn't fine. His body hissed where the venom had splashed across his skin, as though acid clung to him.
Angry welts smoldered across his arms and shoulders, faint smoke curling from the wounds. The lion's spears had burned him deeply, leaving patches of skin blackened and seared. Every movement sent shocks of pain through his frame.
And yet, amidst that pain, there was shock.
Michael had been braced to be torn apart. Against the venom of the serpent and the lion's blazing spears, he expected his body to crumble. Instead, though scorched and battered, he still stood. His body had not been reduced to ash or dissolved to nothing.
