All Finn saw were people scattering like panicked ants, sprinting for their lives as he clung desperately to the giant eyeball hurtling toward the ground at insane speeds.
And then—impact.
He didn't even fully see it happen, but he remembered the moment with crystal clarity: the eyeball splattering like a grotesque snowball against the earth. The slick, slimy grip he had on it completely vanished as he was thrown forward, and then—nothing but the brutal, unyielding hardness of the ground.
Everything went black.
'Did I die?'
That was Finn's first thought. The sound of the splattering eyeball still rang in his memory, and, worse yet, the crunch of bones.
'Dear God, I must've died…'
Even thinking about it made him shudder. He could handle fictional gore just fine—but imagining real-life splintering bones? That was a whole different level of nightmare fuel.
But here's the thing: he didn't feel dead. He didn't feel anything.
