If that demon-slash-angel creature is counting down you don't have much time. You slide your hand into you body as you step forward and can feel your body's warmth. It takes some contorting to line your torso up with the floating, spinning glow, and, when your satisfied with the placement of your upper body you lift your legs, left then right. You remain floating in the glow. It's warm.

No, it's hot. You inhale and smell roasting meat and burnt hair. As you open your eyes you see the red embers of a burning log. Pain is the next sensation and it's less pleasant than the blow to the head earlier. The ogres are preparing dinner as it's you. The scream that escapes your lip echoes into the darkness until you pass out.

A moment later the mists have returned. Your body no longer holds the glow it had when you approached. The demonic angel still stands before you, blade raised in it's hand as it thrusts it through your rotating body. You swear you see a smirk on the cloth wrapped face.

There is a sense of freedom as the blade tears through your body, and the vortex is now directly overhead.
There are no other options now.