The pain was unbearable, intolerable, pain worse than he could have imagined. The flames scorched and burned in a way natural fire never could. Pain carefully and thoughtfully inflicted, carefully administered... pain meant to punish. Chains bit into the flesh, cutting and slicing deep. Always the agony increased, becoming worse and worse, with no sign of stopping. No end in sight.
Please let me die.
He tried to scream and the white flames filled his lungs once again. No sound could be heard through the black emptiness enclosing him, dark, deep, and empty the void seemed to stare at him without pity. Perhaps it too, judged him, for he had no air to breathe, no chance to make a sound, to cry out, to plead for death.
Yet still, somehow through the pain, the silence, the misery, the unending torture, there was something else, impossible to ignore, somehow persisting through the misery. The pain of the soul nearly as profound as the scorching fires and chains which held him in a merciless grip.
Guilt.
What for? Why?
Dread filled him. The pain of the flames coursing through his body forgotten as realization set upon him.
Why can't I remember?
Flames filled his lungs as he attempted to scream. He thrashed in his chains. They bit and tore his flesh while blood seeped and bubbled in the flames. What had he done? Why would they punish him so?
Who are they?
He thrashed, reaching for a name, a face, even if it was only...
No... No... Please no...
Finally, he hung limp, tears brushed away by those terrible white flames, wishing for death.
He could not remember his own name.
YOU ARE READING
Fallen
General FictionA young shepherd who dreams of the adventures he hears about in stories soon finds the real world to be much darker than he could have known. An assassin for the worst that Weylin has to offer, her life as a slave has been nothing but pain and death...
