Ryker closed his eyes as he fell.
His whole life, he'd been a coward. Afraid of death. The unknown, the emptiness—it haunted him, kept him awake at night.
He had spent years trying to push the fear away, to ignore the gnawing dread that one day, he would simply stop.
And now, as the air rushed past him, as Kreel's gaping maw yawned wide below, that fear should have consumed him.
But instead… he felt calm.
Maybe after everything, after the years of backbreaking labor, of running, of fighting, of surviving, he was finally free.
A bright light welcomed him into the afterlife.
Or at least, he thought it was the afterlife.
Something yanked on his leg.
At first, he thought it was Kreel's claws, that the beast had caught him midair and would now tear him apart, limb by limb.
But no, this grip was firm, unyielding, yet strangely careful. It wasn't claws or teeth.