The demon pulled the finger that stabbed into Rowan, watching as a thick trail of red followed in the space that it retracted.
Rowan gasped, his body begging for air to pass through his lungs.
Only fire followed.
A flame that caressed his stomach and squeezed his insides, squirming through the parts that hurt most to remind him of the immeasurable pain.
He hunched forward, arms dangling helplessly in the formless black void beneath them. The absence of gravity made the motion sluggish, as though even pain floated freely here. He tried to close his mouth, but the fire in his throat leaked into his breath. Each inhale brought searing agony, and each exhale tasted of rust and smoke.
Liora reached out with trembling hands, her voice a screech twisted by desperation. "Rowan! Rowan, please! Tell me you're not dead!"
