Hesitation

Auren lay sprawled on the ground as the invigorating sensation of being mended by death itself washed through him—bones knitting, flesh sealing, nerves humming. It wasn't just resurrection. It was like being made anew.

It struck him as both hilarious and poetic how death, of all things, was the only constant that refused to abandon him. Technically, he understood why. The curse nestled deep within his soul had taken to devouring death itself. That was its nature. Relentless.

Insatiable. And with each passing return, Auren found the curse not just fascinating—but almost comical.

It danced not on the border of life and death, but wove itself through both realms, threading them together with impossible seams—seams only he seemed capable of surviving.