Prologue
Flashes.
The world around him, appearing and vanishing in the flashes before his eyes. Murder upon his scenes; his sight, smell, touch and tongue, overwhelmed with the surroundings that flash in and out of existence.
Blood running.
Pain tearing.
Hatred burning.
Terror screaming. Screaming, over and over again, rippling past the flashes. When nothing else lives, there is but the screaming. And the agony. The never ending pain that streams all through his body, igniting everything in its path into tsunami waves of the burning torture. It leaves no ash but the ashes that rule his bones; crumbling him into a heaving, helpless mess, bringing to life undying screams.
It is all twisting, congealing, mutating, transforming into the assaults upon his senses: the blood, the pain, the hate, the terror - it is all too much; erupting out with fountains of blood. The blood, I can feel it . . . It hurts so much! His limbs are thrashing but he cannot escape; he is made to suffer through the vicious flames, shuddering with pain, rendering flesh from bone, and soaked through with the fear that keeps his mouth open, keeps the screams running eternally. Brought up along with the blood that scrapes at his raw throat, boiling and blended hot with agony. Over and over and over again, with the blood and the hate and the terror and the pain . . .
And then nothing. Save for the salty taste of relief, spilling free from his eyes and trickling down his inflamed throat.