Pain came first, so sudden and vicious that Ruvian could think of nothing else, as though every nerve in his body had been brutally ripped apart at the exact same moment.
The sensation of [The Endseeker] carving through his neck had already faded, yet the agony of death still lingered, clawing stubbornly at whatever fragment of him remained.
Oh, how he had thought he had forgotten this feeling, but death was exactly as he remembered it, haunting and inexorable.
There was also that terror, a primal instinct buried deeper than conscious thought, screaming at him that something had gone horribly wrong.
His mind knew that dying inside the memory was only supposed to force him awake, but his soul apparently did not care about such comforting details.
To that part of him, death was still death.
'I fucking hate dying!'
