[Regression has been completed.]
[Cause of regression: death!]
[Beep!]
[The host must think of a way to escape the imminent death!]
The glowing blue texts appeared before Crypian's eyes one after another while he struggled to steady his breathing.
Cold sweat continued to slide down the side of his face as the memories forced into his mind slowly settled into place.
They were not fragments, they were complete memories. The memories of his own death.
Commander Cassian's sword cutting through his neck with terrifying precision, the floor of the prince's chamber rushing toward him, blood spreading beneath his body while horrified voices echoed around him.
Even now the memory of that cold sensation crawling across his throat felt so vivid that Crypian instinctively touched his neck with trembling fingers.
Blasphemy was the charge used to execute him.
Crypian's breathing turned uneven again as another memory surfaced within his mind.
