Azrael felt it, deep in his very soul. The countless injuries he had accumulated began to close at an unnatural rate. His arm began to grow back at unparalleled speed, every trace of exhaustion disappeared from his body, something even the strongest healing potions were unable to achieve.
[Body reconstruction completed.]
[You have challenged the Abyss.]
[Your most loyal follower awaits your return.]
The words echoed in his mind. A second later, he felt his body again. He wasn't in some incomprehensible form—he was whole.
His chest strained, trying to breathe, but something stopped him. An immovable weight pressed down on him, forcing him to hold his breath.
Veins bulged under his skin as he fought to move. His strength was there, but his movements were sluggish.
Tiny particles brushed against his body, entered his nose, and slid beneath his fingernails, mimicking an eerie sensation of something crawling beneath his skin.
'Sand?' A second later the realization hit him.
