Small crunching sounds came from the body of the Archivist. His form began to collapse, each fracture spreading like a web of cracks across his limbs until pieces broke away and drifted into dust. He glanced at his failing body, then lifted his gaze back to Damon with a thin, cold smile.
"What great hubris you have. You see no guilt. Very well then, move on with your ambitions. I wonder if you will perish, or live."
Damon did not answer. He simply watched the Archivist crumble. As the last fragments of the entity dissolved into dust, the air trembled. The world twisted and folded over itself, reality unspooling and reweaving until the false world vanished.
Damon felt a sharp pull. Then everything snapped back.
His burned flesh was restored. His broken bones mended. The library returned. He stood in the body of the mirror seraph once again, pristine and unmarred.
Well save for its original wounds.
