The ethereal flames, entirely comprised of elemental energy, were meticulously sculpted through sheer willpower to serve as a fully functional prosthetic for the absent limb.
The fire hand flexed, fingers curling and straightening as Jack tested its responsiveness. The flames moved with perfect precision, responding to his thoughts as smoothly as flesh and bone would have.
He walked toward Vorath with a steady pace, his yellow-orange eyes fixed on the younger demon's face with an expression that carried no anger, rage, or emotion beyond mild interest in how this would conclude.
As Jack approached, Vorath observed his actions, and his initial resolve began to falter. Jack extended his hand, palm open, as if to shake hands.
The Soul Warden was offering to shake hands with the demon whose bare touch carried death.
"What..." Vorath started, his voice losing some of its earlier conviction. "What are you..."
