[Suzerain of Sheol]

He stares into the creatures eyes for a moment, at first shocked, then suspicious, still sensing the unholy presence buried within her.

And yet... what does it matter? In all likelihood, he'll be dead moments from now, there is little risk in letting her have her way.

Shealtiel gives Asasiah a short nod and reaches up to clasp her hand. He refuses to look away as she begins.

The sensation is jolting at first, arching his spine, forcing his eyes wider as he stares into the... inhumanity across from him. Then comes the cold, searing cold, sliding over bones and deeper, into more essential places, seeping through the tatters of his soul.

Then it begins to burn.

A sound escapes the old man, something caught between a grunt and a whimper, but he refuses to give it purchase. Refuses to cry out as she pours harrowing fire into his deepest spirit. And she is true to her word, the wounds within him heal, undoing all that he has suffered since this mad ordeal began.

But, she offered more. And despite the agony, he seizes it. Clutching her fingers in an ecstatic, anguished grasp, he pulls more of the life she offers into him, letting well up and suffuse his old, battered frame. He feels an unearthly vigor flooding his veins, racing into his heart like molten gold. He is gasping, hyperventilating, wracked with pain beyond anything he has ever felt.

And yet, when he at last stumbles back, no longer able to look into that horrible gaze, Shealtiel feels profoundly, horrifyingly alive.