I'm going to die.
Eragon was lying in the middle of the floor in a monstrous dungeon. He was chained to a massive iron pole emerging from the ground and up into the ceiling, if there even was a ceiling to be seen. The pole simply went higher and higher until it vanished into the darkness. Even Eragon's new sharp elven eyes were unable to see the top.
Scarcely any other object occupying the room except for the various torture devices and a peculiar magical bowl that sent up constant fumes, drugging him so much that he struggled for a few vain minutes to recall even his cousin Roran's name. Eragon was startled out of his reverie by the click of the locked door serving as his only exit out of the dreaded dungeon.
Somebody was coming.
That meant one of two options. Either one, he would be tortured. Or two, a meal would be served, only to be filled with an excruciatingly slow poison. Both were hazardous for Eragon's health, and both would eventually kill him.
The door opened and Galbatorix walked in. If it was the King it always meant torture.
"Hello, my dear boy," said Galbatorix, in almost a cheerful way.
"How are you today?" Eragon merely looked at him.
The drugs were terrible, but he knew this man was different. He was Eragon's very much living and breathing Hell.
"I have not seen you in days." Said Galbatorix with a mournful air.
If one would see Galbatorix the immediate solution to come to mind would be to never infuriate the king, and if that happened the antagonist would not live to see another sunrise, if not be tortured first. The king reached an intimidating seven and a half feet tall accompanied with a very handsome face, twisted, yes, but handsome nonetheless.
One solid scar ran down his face and eyes glowed like black diamonds. His huge six-foot-long sword, Wraith, was strapped to his back.
This man appeared to be able to kill any offender within an instant.
"Have you forgotten how to speak?" He asked, jokingly.
"It is very good way to communicate. You can't tell me to stop unless you tell me to." Eragon said nothing, and instead continued to stare.
"Skrith."
As the word was spoken Eragon felt himself begin to whisper. Then all of a sudden he was speaking out loud, answering all the questions Galbatorix asked.
"I feel like I'm going to die and no, I still remember how to speak!" yelled Eragon.
"Good. It would have been a problem to not be able to communicate with a mindless zombie," replied Galbatorix smugly.
"Remember, Eragon, you will become my slave. You and Saphira will serve-" Eragon tried to lunge at Galbatorix, only to be restricted by the chains.
"Come over here and let me rip your face off!" snarled Eragon
"I see you do not want to talk to me anymore," Galbatorix said slowly, drawing out every word. "You might have been given a little more time to enjoy the current state of your body. I suppose we will have to move forward then…bring it out!" The man commanded.
On command two soldiers entered, and between the two was a large strange object.
The two placed a stone in a compartment and in the act, the object came to life, issuing weird sounds and lights. Eragon had seen this item before because it was used on him many a time. It was the worst torture device Galbatorix had at his disposal.
"Maybe, if you're lucky, you'll die." Said Galbatorix demonically, an evil smile obscuring his face.