The angel thrashed.
It clawed at its own face, trying to force the sand particles back out, but they didn't stop. They pushed deeper, navigating inward with deliberate precision, tearing through everything they reached. The angel flooded the damage with holy light, waves of it, trying to close what Adam was opening, but the repair couldn't keep up. Every time it sealed one point, the particles had already moved on to the next.
The angel's body wasn't built like a human's. The internal structure was different, organs that didn't follow any normal layout, systems that didn't operate on the same logic. It didn't matter. Adam read it as he moved through it, adjusting, and finding the points that caused the most disruption regardless of what they were called or where they sat.
The thrashing got worse.
