He did not know how long he had been fighting.
When Orion awoke from the pain and the phantoms, he found himself standing amidst an endless field of bones, his eyes filled with a profound and weary confusion.
In the space of that brief moment, the bones dissolved, fading into the nothingness of his mind. When all the illusions and agony had receded, he looked around the boundless sea of his consciousness and found that he was utterly alone. The ocean of faith energy that had once shimmered here was gone, vanished without a trace.
"Did I succeed?" he whispered, raising a hand to observe his own form.
The sight made him freeze. The hand, the arm before him—it was not his own. The fingers were like talons, the palm as broad as a shield, the arm as thick as a stone pillar. This was a hand that could tear the world asunder.
