Making a Choice

When I regained consciousness, my whole body rattled from the piercing cold. Drystan wasn't lying. Whatever he did when he bit me filled me with raw fire, burning my insides to ashes. Once the pain pushed me to madness, I wished for death. I thought I had died when the relief finally flooded my senses. But I was still alive, and as the scorching flames left me, the slightest breath of wind sent icy needles to prickle my skin.

The shackles were still on my wrists, and the heavy chains restrained my movement. The skin around the cuffs was torn and constantly bleeding. I couldn't stand up or even lift my head. I wish I could say that I survived the previous night, but I couldn't even call it surviving. Drystan let me breathe only to finish this three-day ritual.

The realization filled me with a new wave of pain… I should die. Not because it was remarkable that I was still in the world of the living, but because only my death could stop the apocalypse. Without my blood, Belial would not b