The storm of memory eventually faded, returning to an endless expanse of white.
The white void returned.
Uriel floated in his ghost form at its center, his gaze vacant and empty as it stared toward the endless horizon.
His shoulder-length white hair swayed beneath the pull of absent winds, and his chest rose and fell softly, breathing in the nothingness of the void.
His heartbeat was slow and steady. His back was straight.
He hadn't gone mad, of course he hadn't. By virtue of whatever hell he was in, he couldn't.
He remembered absolutely every single second and frame of his life. Every emotion, every sensation, every interaction. All of it.
Everything.
Well… perhaps saying he hadn't gone mad was inaccurate. He was still Uriel, but he was… different.
Or maybe he wasn't. How could one change simply by remembering? Perhaps he was only becoming his true self now that he remembered.
It was hard to tell.
WHOOOOSH!
