Leo… or perhaps it's better to say Azriel now. Azriel had gone through a lot. Some days, he wondered how he still remained sane.
Then again, perhaps he wasn't sane at all, merely deceiving himself.
Other days, he questioned whether it would be better to give up.
But then again…
He didn't want that.
He didn't want to give up. And there wasn't some grand reason for it—he simply refused to die. That was all there was to it.
And if he were going to die, it would at least have to be a death worth dying for. It had to be satisfying.
Not that he actually thought much about dying. What he mostly thought about was survival.
Since the day he was transported into this book, surviving had been his only thought.
Why was he even in this book?
Azriel had no idea.
One moment, he had simply wanted a glass of water. The next, he was struck with a pain that felt like death itself.