The corpse's eyes opened.
They were dull and empty, without the hunger that usually appeared when the dead woke up. He wasn't looking at any of us.
Instead, something appeared to move behind the left eye.
A narrow shape pressed against the white from inside the socket, forcing the eyeball forward until the skin around it stretched tight. It pushed farther, as though it meant to come straight through.
Lingyun stopped waiting for permission.
Fire burst from his hands and struck the corpse in one solid wave.
I didn't stop him.
The clothes caught first, followed by the dead man's hair and skin. Zhenlan held the heat over the road and pushed the smoke away from us, while Yuche kept the metal spinning around the outside of the flames.
The corpse began shrinking almost immediately, but it wasn't only from the fire.
Whatever remained inside him was trying even harder to escape.
