Chapter Thirty-NineAn army of nails claw at a planet-sized chalkboard.
Am I dreaming, or are these the sounds you hear in the afterlife?
Masculine fingers gently brush my face.
That’s not very afterlife-like, but who knows.
A pleasant energy flows through me, and I feel my broken bones begin mending.
Then my cuts and bruises get erased in a familiar sensation.
I felt this kind of warm energy after I battled Beatrice—when some anonymous healer made me look presentable for the Council.
My ear becomes whole again, and my neck bruises and broken ribs are but a distant memory.
The pleasurable relaxation spreads into every repaired muscle, and I exhale a relieved breath.
“That’s it,” Nero croons nearby. “Isis will take care of you.”
ISIS? Like the terrorists? Is Nero saying that my lon
