It was the Blood Rite all over again.
Kai could feel the same isolated coldness of the cave as he woke up in the first trial, despite the sun hovering right above his head. He could feel the nauseating nervousness that churned his stomach, threatening to push out everything inside his gut. He could feel the finality that was present in the moment.
A dance that would determine whether he would live or die.
All of the horror and suffering that he had gone through since the very moment he ascended into the sky and became an Angel had been a highway path to this one brilliant fated moment written by the Moirai, the Goddesses of Fate, before the annals of time.
Or perhaps this was the cliché trance for people who are balancing on a thin string.
One that was suspended between life and death.
