Deep within the recesses of Aran's mind, a conversation took place.
"Accept me" a growl.
"No"
"You have no choice in the matter, it is obvious you are dead"
"Then let me die"
"And what of her?"
"…"
"Accept me" another growl.
"On one condition"
"What is that?"
"You listen this time"
"Don't I always?"
"No, I mean it. You listen, no matter what"
"…Fine, I accept"
"Then, I accept you"
...
It was akin to the knowledge that you knew you only had a few seconds to live, and that there would be nothing productive done in the last few seconds of your life. Nothing but feeling pure, unadulterated fear.
If he were asked to, Vira didn't know if he could describe what he was looking at. Because at one moment Aran had been lying on the ground, obviously dead, but then there seemed to be a strange wind in the surrounding.