The chains found purchase.
All five of them burrowed into the beast's hide like white serpents, sinking deep into segments that had to be at least thirty meters thick. The Oasis Worm screeched, a sound that made the previous cries seem like whispers.
'Good. Scream louder.'
The [Chains of Confession] blazed with white light, and I could feel the connection snap into place. It was like grabbing onto a live wire, except the electricity was information, pouring into my skull in torrents of fragmented sensation.
Hunger. Endless hunger. The memory of swallowing caravans whole, of digesting travelers for weeks while they still screamed. The satisfaction of creating false oases, of luring prey with the promise of water in a land of death.
'Jesus Christ, this thing is evil.'
But I didn't need its sins. I needed its pain.
"Maggie!" I shouted into the sandstorm. "Auto-da-fé! Now!"
For a moment, nothing.
