Part One: Sand
Ava Ross
He waded through the knee-high water, slowly trudging to the bank. Wounds covered his body, bleeding heavily, and he could hardly breathe. Something was dragging him down, hands perhaps, trying to pull him down with them, into death. He would not die though, he refused to die. He would survive and become stronger.
Then he'd kick his brother's ass for nearly killing him.
He felt the muddy sand on his bare feet, and because it felt so good, he dug in his toes and sighed. Though he wasn't on earth, Vergil felt glad for the solid ground hell could provide.