Faelan’s concentration didn’t break when he realized this wasn’t going to be what he thought it was. He buckled himself up, remembering the times he’d burn the magic combat runes onto his arm, the many times he’d been injured. Not only did he refuse to budge, but when he felt her giving in, even just the slightest, he pushed even harder. His head felt like it was going to burst, his arm was basically on fire, and he could feel his heart threatening to beat a hole in his ribs. Sweat dripped down his face, streaking into his eyes, and his mouth, the salty fluid urging him to go on.<br/><br/>Even with the extensive training he’d done to resist pain, the edge of his very mind felt this pain. As if his thoughts were being prodded with a blazing hot rod. His body could handle the pain, and his mind could too, but it was definitely testing his limits. The moment he felt his mind slip into hers, images started blaring through his head, incoherent, sometimes painful, other times blissfully complacent. Feeling the blood trickling down his arm from her claws snapped him back though, and the last image to run through his head hit the hardest. The platinum haired, blue eyed girl that was Larentia, his dead sister.<br/><br/>Gripping onto her, he pulled her closer with his free hand, keeping his hand pressed to her chest, his own on fire, the pain running through his arm darkening the edges of his vision. The demon screeched something, and he didn’t hear it, but he felt it. Pushing back, he conjured up images of his sister, of the times they’d laugh, and their epic hunts. The pain in the back of his head seemed to recede, if only for a second, and he pushed forward, one last time. Then he blacked out.