Chapter 40: Echoes of Humanity
Grass scraped against his bare feet—dry, coarse, and unforgiving. Zyx winced. His balance faltered as he tried to take a step. "Where... am I?" His voice sounded strange. Mortal. A clumsy mess of air and muscle.
Around him, only silence. A sea of tall grass danced under a pale blue sky, endless and unfamiliar. He lifted a foot. It quivered. Then he collapsed.
Pain bloomed in his side. It was sharp, dull, and stinging all at once. His body had never felt this way before. Weak. Exposed. Human.
The Curse Mark dragged him down with invisible weight. His muscles barely responded, and when they did, it was only to betray him. He tried again, crawling upright like some drunk animal, then tumbled forward. Dirt pressed against his cheek. He bit his tongue. Iron.
He grunted.
This was what it meant to walk. This was gravity, exhaustion, shame—all the things gods like him never truly understood. It was horrible. It was incredible.
And he wasn’t going to stop.
By the time he reached the edge of the field, hours might have passed. Or days. It was hard to tell. The sun bore down on him like an executioner. His throat was cracked and dry. His stomach clawed at itself.
He staggered onto a dirt road. A thin, crooked thing that stretched off into forever.
His feet moved.
Left. Right. Left.