Rhys sometimes had nightmares.
They were horrible. He found himself in total darkness, where dozens of hands emerged and began to touch him, tearing at his clothes and skin until they penetrated deep into his being, where they tore out his heart and soul, finally draining his life.
When Rhys had nothing left, those hands would move away, he would simply remain still, like an empty vessel.
He felt the hollow where something must be beating.
He had lived that way for years. No matter what he did, the unrest never ceased. He defied Blackwood, had loyal friends, and, although he wasn't the face of the rebellion, he was active among those fighting to transform society from the shadows.
He had to feel good, right?
