I had a nightmare, one I wish I could erase.
Vivian hung upside down, unable to speak, his tongue long since taken.
For months, two, perhaps three, he had endured the relentless cruelty of that bastard, Kafrik.
Each visit brought a new method of torment, each more inventive and horrifying than the last.
Now, after endless days of agony, there was nothing left on his body to cut or pierce.
It was a miracle he still lived.
But why? Did he truly cling to life so desperately?
No, if anything, he longed for death's release.
Yet Kafrik, hateful to the core, denied him even that mercy.
The monster had bound Vivian to an artifact, forcing his body to survive only to suffer again and again.
In these past few months, Vivian's suffering had gone beyond imagination.
His fingers and tongue had been severed, his eyes gouged out, his skin flayed, and the wounds rubbed with salt by Kafrik's cruel hands.
Once, Vivian had wanted nothing but death's mercy, an end to this nightmare.
