The tribulation lightning was made to unmake a thing at its root, and even a body jumper like Orath still had a soul, and it would seem like this golden lightning was the bane of souls.
This detail did not surprise me because my tribulation had been able to easily track my ascension from Acolyte to Adept, which was one of the first great transformations of the soul.
I held my hands close to Orath's face, and his eyebrows curled, and his skin reddened, and the golden light from my palms painted his terror in sharp relief. There was no pleasure in his suffering, because I understood that the body he was wearing may not belong to the real Orath, and it was someone else inside of him.
"I really want to see you escape from me," I whispered to the panicking man, whose mouth worked, but no sound came out. The thunder overhead rumbled, low and hungry, and the golden lightning that crawled down my arms began to move closer to his face.
