Paul struggled desperately as Kal walked towards him, but only succeeded in bruising his wrists and ankles in their iron shackles. He was going nowhere, and everyone knew it.
Tamass held his gaze, mirroring his terror.
Kal ripped Paul’s shirt open, and walked back to the brazier where he was heating up several branding irons.
Oh God oh God oh God. His heart rate was racing out of control. He didn’t care if he shat himself everywhere.
Kal was coming.
Kal was coming with a red-hot glowing spitting sizzling branding iron.
Kal was coming to fucking brand him!
Oh God oh God oh God.
He was gibbering, calling out, “Don’t tell them. Don’t tell them anything. Don’t tell them.”
This couldn’t be happening. Someone would come. Someone was going to throw the door open and stop this insanity.
Kal pressed the iron into his chest.
It burned him alive. Agony like nothing he’d ever known filled his entire existence. It pressed deeper and deeper. He screamed and writhed and tried to push backwards through the wall and floor but it didn’t stop pressing it kept burning through his chest it didn’t stop he was cooking he could smell his flesh cooking he was dying in agony he wanted to die please let me die please