Then pale blue light began to emerge from the corpse.
It seeped slowly from the dead man's chest like breath escaping after being held for far too long. It was like a soft, unsteady air. The color of winter skies before dawn. It rose carefully into the air, trembling faintly, as though uncertain whether it was finally allowed to leave.
Haryntha frowned as she noticed the light traces.
Jolthar remained still, watching the light with a curious gaze.
The light gathered above the body, gradually taking shape—not fully human, not truly visible, but enough to carry the unmistakable impression of a person stripped of flesh and pain.
The soul turned toward Jolthar.
And then relief washed over the area so intensely that even the corrupted air seemed quieter for a moment.
The light moved towards where Jolthar stood and stopped right in front of him.
"Thank you."
The voice was strange, but it was also gentle. Echoing slightly, like sound traveling across deep water.
