Amon had wanted to run away that night. He truly had. But his body had betrayed him. It didn't go along with his mind.
The moment Zerath left, the pain finally caught up to everything else. His thoughts blurred, his limbs refused to move, and before he could even form a proper plan, darkness swallowed him whole.
He remained unconscious all night.
...
When awareness returned, it came slowly and painfully.
The next day. It was morning.
Amon lay in the cage, barely aware of the passage of time, when the tent flap moved again.
Zerath came.
This time, there was no long interrogation. No twisted conversations.
Only pain. "Ahhh!" Amon's scream followed.
Zerath used a few torture tools. Just enough to remind Amon of his place, just enough to break him down again. He didn't linger. He didn't savor it like before.
His punches bruised Amon's face. Scratches appeared here and there.
After a short while, Zerath stopped.
