"For high treason and crimes against humanity, you have been sentenced to death by holy fire. May his grace burn away your sins and set you free." The high priest spoke with venom in his voice as he regarded me with hate-filled eyes. With his hands, he formed the trifold cross before starting to pray. His black and gold robes fluttered from his movement, while the oval hat on his head remained upright.
But my eyes were somewhere else entirely. I matched my brother's gaze with cold indifference as he sat on his golden throne, watching my execution with rapt interest. The shadow of a smile hung on his lips, in stark contrast to his outwardly regal appearance. I had all but tuned out the priest's babbling, up until I felt the sting of fire as it began to devour me. The white flame was excruciatingly hot as it began to sear my skin. I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing me scream, so with gritted teeth I forced out a defiant smile. Even when the chains binding me began to heat up, the only sound I made was a silent grunt of pain. When my skin had all but burnt away, and the fire began to consume my muscles and tendons. Only then could I no longer hold myself from releasing a blood-curdling scream of pain. The next thing to be burnt away was my eyes, and from there, my world became one with darkness and pain. Until even the pain began to fade as life slowly left my body.
I shot up from the ground, clutching my heart as it beat relentlessly. Adrenaline surging through my body as the memories and phantom pain began to slowly fade. It was just a dream, yet I was covered in sweat from head to toe. I had to constantly remind myself that I was no longer there, but pain has a way to cling to a person like a parasite, refusing to go away. Only after what felt like an eternity did I finally manage to calm my beating heart.
When my mind began to clear, only then did I begin to notice the peculiarities of where I found myself. The ground I was lying on was rough cobble, unevenly cut with crude tools. Readjusting my back so that I was not lying on a loose stone, my eyes began to observe the room. But I could hardly see anything in the darkness. And that was only the external peculiarities; I felt weak. Weaker than I had ever felt before, like a newborn baby still unfamiliar with life. It did not help that there was a weight on my wrists and ankles. After fumbling in the dark for a bit, I felt the chain tied to the shackles holding me. Unease began to spread through my body like a plague. Analyzing my situation only made it worse.
I was in an unfamiliar terrain, weaker than I'd ever been, whilst being shackled to the ground. Memories of the void I drifted through after my death brought shivers down my spine. No, dammit! I would not die here. I'd be damned if I allowed that to happen, not again… Through sheer effort of will, I managed to sit upright. My chest began tightening as my lungs began to protest. It felt as if this body itself was rejecting me. I tried my best to resist the cough, but it was an exercise in futility. The cough came like a flood, unstoppable in its force. At first, it was only a subtle cough, but it quickly grew violent. The longer it went on, the more raw my throat felt. Up until the point when I began to spit blood, only then did the coughing fit subside.
A familiar weakness enveloped my body as I struggled for breath. I formed fists with my trembling hands in an attempt to remain calm. But the weakness refused to leave. I was so out of it that I did not even notice when someone entered my cell. My mind was in a haze, as hands grabbed me by my shoulders and began dragging me out of the cell. When we exited the threshold of the cell, my eyes were assaulted with a blinding light from the torch on the wall. I did not even have time to adjust to the light before they continued dragging me like a piece of meat through the stone corridor.
I was in a state of delirium, incapable of fully processing what was happening. My captors were devoid of kindness or care. Treating me like a herd animal as they roughly dragged me along the uneven cobble. When I caught sight of one of my captors, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. My mind had already begun to recover from the shock when I saw the distinctly inhuman features of my captors. They wore long black robes that trailed behind them on the floor. Their faces were covered by a dark hood, and the smell of dried blood emanated from them. The stench was so pungent that it practically burned my nose. But none of this was what unsettled me; no, it was their eyes glowing through the darkness of their hood. Like a storm caught within, their gaze was sharp and devoid of emotion.
Their hands were the only piece of exposed flesh, but calling it flesh felt like a stretch. It looked like roots intertwined with bone and skin, in a grotesque display. Just looking at it sent shivers down my spine. I do not know how long they dragged me, or even where they dragged me to. Yet again, I found myself in darkness; the shackles binding me had been removed before they left me here. My first instinct was to get into a defensive position. So with my back to the wall, I got into a fighting stance. My body may have been weak, but my skill honed through decades was not so easy to lose. I strained my senses, trying to glean any information I could. I heard neither a sound nor could my eyes pierce the darkness. The only thing present was the smell of old blood coming from the walls and the sand underneath my feet.
I stayed on alert for more than five minutes before something changed. I heard the shuffle of footsteps on sand from my left. My entire body turned in that direction as I strained my senses further. I would be lying if I said that I was not afraid. But when has fear ever stopped me? With these thoughts swirling through my mind, I listened as the footsteps drew ever closer. "Is anyone there?" A fear-filled young voice spoke from the direction of the footsteps.
I chose to remain quiet; the cynic inside me deemed that exposing myself would not be the wisest course of action. "Over here!" The voice of an older man spoke from my left. The shuffling of feet drew my attention as the first speaker moved in the direction of the second. "I… I can't see you." The younger voice spoke with a trembling tone. My back was still hugging the wall, but my mind was racing with various probabilities.
Whatever was happening put my mind ill at ease. My decision to remain as an observer proved to be the correct one. Not even five minutes after the voice spoke, I heard a muffled scream of pain. "Wha… what are you doing!?" The young man screamed through labored breaths.
A dry laugh escaped from the older one's voice. "What does it look like, idiot? I'm killing you. Why do you think the cultists brought us here? To have tea in the darkness, haha, hahaha." His laugh was hoarse, like a cat being strangled. But his words highlighted the severity of the situation. This was a death game of sorts, but to what end? I was unsure, but I'd be damned if I let myself get killed here.
Taking in a deep breath while listening to the dying screams of the young man. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as my hearing sharpened even further. Just looking at the facts, I knew I was fucked. I had neither a weapon nor the ability to see. If this had been in my life before, I would have welcomed the challenge. But here? In this sick body, I'd rather not risk it. But that is the funny thing about life, you never seem to have a choice. Following the wall, I began walking along the edge of the room. If they wanted people to die, then so be it. Not that I would foolishly charge into conflict, yet there are more ways than one to skin a cat. In the darkness of the room, a twisted smile graced my lips.