Rory hurried to Vincent's side.
There was no amazement in her eyes over the dramatic change in his appearance—only overwhelming worry and heartache.
Nirvana and rebirth.
She had only ever seen those words in books before.
And now, Vincent had undergone such a transformation right before her eyes.
Yet Rory felt no joy at all.
Looking at his pale face, remembering the agony he had endured during his nirvana, her heart felt as though an invisible hand had seized it tightly, squeezing until she could barely breathe.
Towering flames had ignited from the depths of his blood and bones, burning through his meridians inch by inch, scorching apart his skeleton.
When he lost his sanity and became ruled by instinct alone… had there still been fleeting moments of clarity?
Moments where he could feel that soul-rending pain?
How much had it hurt him back then?
The thought alone made Rory's eyes sting as mist instantly blurred her vision.
