Kowali remembered the sensation of the king's fisted hand around his heart right before he tore it from his chest. There had been pain beyond anything he'd ever felt before coursing through ever part of him. Nerve endings, mental images flashing through all his best and worst memories. All noises were louder, sounding as though thunder roared in his ear, then there was nothing but darkness.
The Kovyan prince thought he'd see his beloved and their unborn child, instead he'd seen some white long-haired devil standing before him, offering a deal; he'd live again, though of course his wife wouldn't be by his side, but living was living. Apparently, she'd passed on happily.
Kowali's eyes snapped open, and several symbols burned themselves into his chest, feathers crest around a full crimson moon. They were colored as if one of the villagers had inked them themselves. That wasn't possible though, because he'd been dead.