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The unmistakable sound of a latch sliding into place, followed by a burning pulse of pain, jolted Rymedur forward, and he lost his grip on the wall.
Chapter 48
Rymedur
Rymedur crashed to the floor, knees slamming hard into the slick, wet ground—but he did not feel the rattle of his bones.
A vibrating fire emerged from whatever had been locked around his neck.
Clawing at his throat, Rymedur tried to dislodge the item as pain burned every atom of his being. He was met with the feeling of hard, smooth stone, so unlike his warm chain—unrelenting and merciless—that enwrapped his neck like a collar.
A godsdamned collar.
If Rymedur could form a single thought, he would have raged at being chained like some mindless beast.
When his fingertips touched the collar, he was hit with another sharp sting, sending his muscles into spasms. Thousands of lightning bolts hit his nerves at once, and unable to move, he could only endure the feeling of his muscles being ripped apart and put back together again.
Faintly, he registered the sensation of someone dragging his writhing body across the ground, but all Rymedur could feel was the collar. It choked the air from his lungs and boiled the very blood in his veins.
He didn’t care where they were taking him—he just wanted this to end.
Pain. There was nothing beyond searing pain.
Every fibre of his being pulled taut; his bare body convulsed, scraping the loose, sharp rock—though he did not feel as they scratched red, jagged lines into his skin.
His teeth clenched so hard they cracked, and blood pooled in his mouth as he bit down on his tongue, hard.
Gods, he would do anything to make it stop.
Unable to reach his shadows, Rymedur could do nothing but endure. Every intake of oxygen was like broken shards of glass cutting deep, unforgiving and cruel.
He heard the distinct sound of muttering. Followed by the same drag, thud and step that had echoed down the tunnel before.
Drag. Thunk. Step.
Drag. Thunk. Step.
The sound was muffled, distant. He must be drowning. Not in water, but in pain.
A hunger for air had Rymedur desperately clawing at the collar around his neck once more.
Back arching off the damp floor, Rymedur screamed—unable to suppress the sound any longer—as another wave of lightning assaulted his nerves.
Harder. Longer.
Incapacitating.
Skin scraping against the floor, Rymedur twisted this way and that in an attempt to flee the pain, but his vision distorted, blurring until there was nothing but vivid, scarlet agony.
Please.
Please.
He must’ve said it aloud because the next thing he knew, the sound—drag, thunk, step—came to an abrupt stop. Then closer…
Drag. Thunk. Step. Drag. Thunk. Step.
The sound was like a death knell.
