The twilight bled into dusk.
The once-violent clearing now lay hushed, save for the occasional crackle of dying embers from the remnants of corrupted beast flesh. A low mist began to crawl along the forest floor, born not of unusual, but of natural breath returning to a land briefly stolen by chaos.
Gin lay still.
His body, a silver-blue blur in the grass, barely moved save for the slow rise and fall of his breath. Each inhalation was labored, and each exhale held the sharp edge of exhaustion. Mira's healing mist had done what it could. But deep wounds, mentally exhaust ones never closed so easily.
His memories inside rewind memory fragment was hazy after coming out. But they are slowly getting clearer. Maybe because of his this new soul transfer his memory was hazy or maybe from his consciousness, soul going through so much differentiates.
