I knew as soon as she came into the inn. That was the face I needed; that was the skin. It was flawless. I hadn't considered an Imperial's skin until now, but it makes so much sense. Wood Elf is too coarse, Nord too hard, Breton too soft. But as I watch her here in the inn, I just know that skin is what I'm looking for. I sit here, watching it stretch and give with the perfect elasticity.
I don't think she sees me. The room is crowded, and she's preoccupied with the new bard. Alex, or Alec, or something. Whatever. He doesn't matter. She's going downstairs; I'll have to be careful to ensure I remain unseen.
.
She's staying at the inn tonight. Perfect. Now that I know I'll have the skin, I can begin with the rest of the body. Her arrival was the sign I needed, the sign that it is time.
My only worry is that she has a dog staying in her room. I am quiet; I can sneak past it. It's only a runt, after all. I'll wait a few hours before sneaking in the back door.
.
A thousand curses! I missed my chance twice! The woman's lover chased me down the first time and nearly caught me. I had to use my precious magicka stores to escape. I didn't want to expend any energy; I must save it for the ritual.
The second time, the girl had come into the Cornerclub and introduced herself as Alessia. After distracting her, I was able to slip a special mixture into her drink. I've become quite skilled in the art of alchemy, my darling. Unfortunately, after she passed out, that damnable ranger managed to find me again at the very worst time. I needed to use more magic to disappear. If this Alessia girl wasn't so perfect for the ritual, I'd give up and find a different one. No matter. I'll find another way. I must, if I am to see you again.
.
I swallowed, though I could not get rid of the lump in my throat. This sick villain was talking about me. Nevertheless, I couldn't quit reading regardless of the fear gripping my heart like demonic claws.
.
I see another one, too. Isabella, if I'm not mistaken. She stretched to retrieve a fallen basket for that little girl, the homeless one by the docks. Ligaments... yes. Isabella's ligaments will be perfect.
.
Isabella was somewhat easy. A day of watching showed that she takes walks through the Gray Quarters. Nords rarely go down the pathway, and the Dark Elves keep to themselves at night. I slit her throat and she made not a sound. I was right; her ligaments were just what I was looking for.
.
I ran into Friga Shatter-Shield. I patted her arm in greeting, and though she seemed confused, it confirmed the coincidental meeting was a serendipitous one. Her arm was perfectly firm. She has the flesh I want. The meat, the muscles. Perfect.
.
Friga is dead. She came into my store again late at night, and the timing was just right. She never saw it coming, and I was right about the flesh. It's perfect. Perfect, perfect. I need it all to be perfect. Her sinew wasn't right, though. Neither was her bone marrow. This is proving to be more difficult than I'd anticipated.
I discovered that her home, Hjerim, is the perfect hideaway. I think I'll keep my experiments there. Better than someone accidentally stumbling onto them in my own home.
.
I've had my eye on Fjotli for nearly a week, and I got the perfect chance to inspect her when she tripped in the marketplace and bled. The way that crimson stained the snow nearly had me crying in delight. I need her for blood. That perfect, perfect blood. I'll watch her for a while longer to see her schedule.
Oh, and I heard that Alessia girl speaking with her lover. He's still trying to convince her to escape despite the guards' orders, though she wants to keep tabs on me. Though I doubt she'll live long enough to either find me or leave, I must be swift and mindful.
.
Oh, how I miss you, sweet sister! I have the bodies of both Fjotli and Friga in my workroom. I am looking forward to taking them apart, personally choosing the parts best for you.
I continued to watch that warrior woman today. I don't think she noticed. But I saw Susanna as well... I wonder...
.
The plans are coming together swimmingly. I've found good sources of bone, flesh, and blood, but thus far, a good sampling of sinew and marrow have escaped me. No matter. The city is swollen with contemptuous fools who will be missed by nobody.
Last night, I was almost able to corner Susanna as she left Candlehearth. Idiot guards showed up at just the wrong moment, and I had to turn about, just out for a stroll, and so forth. There will be other chances, but the time is drawing near.
I think back to my time in Winterhold. All the wasted minds up in their towers. They only explore the magic they already know. I am discovering new magic here. Something deeper than the cantripped shenanigans of fire and light. This flesh magic is older than us. Perhaps older than the world itself. I am tugging at the corners of the fabrics of the universe, and where it bunches and folds is where I shall create my greatest triumph.
One more attempt at the Candlehearth girl. She's proving to be a bit too cautious, but those strong joints of hers should contain the most exquisite tendons—worth the effort. Alessia shall follow, as I have no doubt the scene will draw her.
Tonight.
.
How serendipitous! After I took Susanna's life, the ranger was blamed for it. Despite Alessia's pleas, he was taken away. That boy will not be a problem any longer. Though I did not manage to steal Alessia away, she seems so very disheartened. Perhaps she'll even let her guard down by mistake.
.
The time is nearly here. I have compiled a list of what I've gotten. Just a few more, and I will begin the ritual.
17 tendons and assorted ligaments
173 fragments of bone for assemblage
Approx. 4 bucket-fulls of blood (Nord preferred)
6 spoons of marrow (no more than 2 from a thigh)
12 yards of flesh (before cutting)
Star-scrying to the edge of the ice-mind
Look to the lights where the souls dance
Revealing the time when a spark will revive
When the rotted united under most skillful hands
(Translation from Aldmer text, as interpreted by the Ayleids and first transcribed by Altmer. Provenance and authority unknown)
Soon.
...
I continued to stare at the final page of the journal, bloodstains dappling the parchment. It was then I became aware of just what this Butcher had been planning, his meticulous attention to detail penned down. Without a doubt, I was next. Where was he? Was this horrifying, psychopathic killer in the house? Was he sneaking around, tiptoeing up behind me with a raised knife in his wicked hands-
I whirled around, heart pounding. There was no one there. My nerves and fears had grown tenfold after reading the journal. Tucking it into the pocket of my tunic, I edged towards the other room. No matter how frightened I was by the journal's contents, I needed to continue the investigation. I'd just found a significant piece of the puzzle; I just needed a few more to place the identity of the killer.
The other room was mostly empty, though a stand on the far wall was full of papers- the warnings Viola Giordano had written about the Butcher. One pile was slightly distorted, and a frown curved my lips as I stretched out to brush the pages aside. Underneath was an odd green necklace, black with a jade stone in the middle. It looked very, very old, and it tingled with magic. The stone in the middle looked like it had once sported a shape but was too worn to tell what it had been.
I pocketed the amulet, resolving to find more about it later. A bit more poking around revealed that one of the wardrobes was immobile. It had been nailed to the wall, which was entirely abnormal. Unease continued to shake my confidence as I opened the doors. The back of it gave a bit as I pushed, and it became clear that it was a false back panel. Terrified, unconfident, anxious, fearful- there were a thousand words to express how I felt.
However, there were absolutely none to describe what I saw when the panel slid open.
Blood and bones were strewn about the room, and the nasty stench of rotting flesh permeated the air. Ashen-colored brain matter poured from half-broken skulls, marrow scraped clean out of hollow bones. Several decaying green-black limbs laid in a pile, maggots already squirming inside. I could almost hear their movements, wet and sickening. The room was stained red, bone shards scattered. A sheet of what couldn't be anything other than human skin had been set out over a demonic altar. Just above the cursed thing was a bloody human skull. Everything screamed evil and malice.
A human face, damaged beyond recognition, hung on the wall by a nail. Hair had been set aside neatly, bloody clumps hanging off the table's edge. It had all been torn out from the roots, and I could only hope that the poor women had been dead when the Butcher had exacted his savagery upon them. Evidence of torture was set all around me. It was only by the capricious whims of fate that I was not among them.
Even Mehrunes Dagon would have had a hard time topping it.
When I finally burst out from the cursed house, I had sick on my chin and terror in my chest. Karnwyr had remained out front, his tail wagging sadly when I emerged. I held onto his scruff and squeezed my eyes shut, knowing that image, disgustingly familiar, would be burned into my mind forever.
With the help of the furry red wolf, I was able to walk far enough away from the house that I couldn't feel the dark magic in the air. I stuck my head in the snow at one point, the cold feeling distracting me for the briefest of moments. It was relieving for a while, just sitting in the snow. My fingers took on a mind of their own and trailed over the patterns of scars under my tunic. I became aware that my armor was still outside the balcony and cursed under my breath. Should I go back to get it?
"No," I said almost immediately, not even entirely aware of it myself. Shakily, I stood up and started to head out of the neighborhood. Who should I tell about this? Bishop, of course, but how would I go about everything else? Who should I report to the authorities?
Every bone in my body screamed for me to abandon this cause, break out Bishop, leave Windhelm, and never return. I almost gave in, unwilling to go through that again. I'd find other armor, and someone else would take over the investigation.
But no one else could.
I was torn entirely, unsure of anything and everything. If there was anything I needed right now, any singular thing, it was the voice of reason sitting in the prisons. He'd help me make a decision. With that decision, I set off towards the palace. Karnwyr trotted close to me, perhaps aware of my fragile mental state. I hate when that happens, I thought miserably.
Karnwyr whined, drawing me back out of my thoughts. Giving a sad smile, I ruffled his fur and kept walking. I felt in my pockets to ensure the cursed journal was still there. Indeed it was, but another lump I didn't quite remember was there too. Once I pulled it out, I indeed recalled putting it there. It was that amulet, the odd green one I'd found. It tingled with magic, and I shoved it back into my pocket.
"To the palace," I murmured. "Let's get you out, Bishop."
...
It had taken quite a bit of convincing and cajoling the guards to allow me into the dungeons- or as they called it, 'The Bloodworks.' "Doesn't look much like an arena's Bloodworks," I mentioned to Karnwyr, biting my lip roughly. Focus on finding Bishop, Di- Alessia, I thought to myself. I still had to shed my old identity. She was gone. I was living a new life.
Didn't always seem like it, though.
All around were prisoners. One sat and glared at me, steel Imperial armor reflecting the dying torchlight. Another had a sort of finery on, making me wonder what an influential and wealthy person had done to earn imprisonment. Most had on armor, making me wonder if they were bandits. Under Imperial rule in Cyrodil, banditry was instantly rewarded with death. Was it different in Skyrim?
Imperial armor, Imperial armor, fur, steel, more fur, leather-
Bishop was an entirely different story.
His chest was exposed, heavily muscled and glistening with sweat. The veins stood out when his surprisingly thick biceps flexed as he crossed his arms. Though he appeared relaxed as he leaned against the wall, the tension in his body showed differently. The only thing he wore was a pair of ragged pants, something that ended up being more than slightly ill-fitting. In short, it was too tight. Dirt speckled his skin, and though his chest was mostly hairless, there was a small trail at the base leading down...
"You alright, ladyship?" My head snapped back up, cheeks burning.
"I- I'm here to talk," I croaked hastily, coughing several times to clear my throat. That's a nice distraction, my inner voice crowed gleefully. Quashing it down, I turned to Bishop again while desperately trying to ignore all there was to see.
"Mmhmm. To 'talk.'" From his tone of voice, it was clear that he knew quite well what I'd been doing. "Well, I'm not much of a talker. I'm a man of action, my lady." The bastard was amused, damn him. "Well, do go on. I hope I'm not distracting you." The roguish smile he sent my way darkened my mood.
"Karnwyr helped me find the killer's lair," I informed him, hoping to turn the situation back to our predicament. "And if I can figure out who this belongs to-" I fumbled around in my pocket before producing the jade amulet. "-Then I'll likely find the killer." Bishop took a step closer, and I bit my lip hard as he inspected it.
"I can't say I recognize it," he began, "but there's a shop in the city run by a man by the name of Calixto. He collects odd things, might have an idea what it is." He backed up and leaned against the wall again, taking a deep breath and closing his amber eyes. "But be careful. We can't rule out anyone." I didn't move from my spot, and he cracked an eye open to look at me again. "Something wrong, ladyship?"
I chewed at my lip. "I'm just... I want to leave," I murmured, staring down at the stone floor in shame. "I want to get out of the city. This isn't working. Nade isn't even here." Bishop eyed me up and down before running a hand through his short brown hair.
"Nade?"
I could have bitten off my own tongue. "He's the man I'm trying to find," I muttered. "Nade Armenson. I found something, but I kind of dropped it once I took over investigating the Butcher."
Interest showed on his handsome face- damn those biceps!- as he shifted again. "Really? Care to share?"
"When I met Nade, he was twenty-one and a newcomer in Leyawiin. I-" I peered at him suspiciously. "Since when did you start to care?"
"I don't," he replied carelessly, "but I figure that if I stay with you after this debacle, I might as well know what I can."
"Oh?" I challenged, scowling at the ranger. "Well, why bother with me?"
"Because leaving would mean I'd lose the chance to conquer you, ladyship."
My cheeks blazed with heat. "You motherf-"
"Where's your armor?" I bit my lip again, and his eyes settled on the movement before returning to mine. "Don't get me wrong, ladyship. I'm not complaining." He shifted his stance, again showing off that his pants were too goddamn small, before settling in what must have been a more comfortable position. I, on the other hand, was very uncomfortable.
I refused to look.
"Look, I..." I cast my gaze aside and tried to prevent my voice from wavering. "I saw something in that house that's telling me to get out of Windhelm and never come back, and I'm having a hard time convincing myself to keep going."
"Well, I can't get out of here without being seen," he mentioned, "and even with my skills, taking on the entire city guard would be stupid. If you weren't going to finish your investigation, then we should have left as soon as the Butcher went after you the first time." He was definitely cross, and perhaps even a bit resentful. "Like it or not, princess, you've got to finish what you started." His eyes flashed. "What are you waiting for? Go find him. Then you can spring me, and we can get the hell out of here."
...
"Calixto, Calixto, Calixto..." I started muttering to myself as I walked out of the Palace of Kings. The cold breeze on my face for once was not unwelcome. My head was swimming, not only from my experience with that gory scene in the house but also Bishop. "Ridiculous," I said under my breath. "Absolutely ridiculous." I didn't know why he wouldn't have kept his armor when the other prisoners did.
I needed to stop thinking about this.
I tapped on the nearest guard's shoulder. Even through the masked helm, I could tell he was annoyed with me. "What is it, Imperial?" he spat. I bit my tongue to avoid snapping back at him and took a deep breath instead.
"Could you please point me towards Calixto's store?" I asked nicely, hoping he wouldn't turn me aside for the sole reason that I was an Imperial. After a moment, the guard pointed to the streets of the Gray Quarter.
"All the way down," he grumbled, "and then to the left. It's near that cornerclub with all those ashskins."
I waited until he was across the palace entrance before shooting a scowl. "Fetcher."
...
"Calixto's House of Curiosities," I read, staring at the small brick shop. A frown slowly settled on my face. Karnwyr gave a whine and nudged my hand. "I get it, buddy. You want Bishop out, too." Karnwyr was looking ahead at the shop, but his ears were pressed flat against his head. Something's upsetting him, I realized. Did he know something I didn't? "It's okay, bud." I scratched the fur under his chin before moving ahead. "We'll be okay." I still had my swords, after all.
As soon as I opened the door, a wave of unease washed over me. I didn't know if it was residual from the house, but I was definitely getting the wrong feeling at the moment.
"Welcome, young lady!" I quickly turned my head to see the source of the voice. It was a simple old man, unassuming and unarmed. Other than his completely neutral poise, he had the oddest expression. "May I help you?" His smile was empty.
"Yes, I..." My hand moved towards my pocket, but I never actually pulled out the amulet. "I assume you're Calixto?" The old man dipped his head.
"Yes, I am. Welcome to the House of Curiosities!" Calixto made a grand gesture to the various treasures set around the room. "I offer a brief tour for a few coins, or you can simply browse at your leisure." His brown eyes wandered down to Karnwyr. "May I give you a tour, miss? I believe you are new in Windhelm, yes?" I nodded warily. "Then I feel it would only be right to allow you one free of charge. Are you staying long?"
"Ah... no, I'm not." I set my hand on Karnwyr, my anxiety growing. A theory was forming in my mind, but I had no proof just yet. "Thank you for the offer, sir, but I think I'll look around on my own." If I was right, there was no way I was turning over the amulet.
"Of course, of course." A shudder went up my spine as I walked away, his eyes following me the entire way. If Karnwyr hadn't been there...
I passed a few of Calixto's 'curiosities,' including an odd-looking fork and a book. None of them seemed overly special, and I wondered at the authenticity. At this point, I was just waiting for an opportunity to sneak around. Again, if my hunch was correct, then I'd find enough evidence to stop the murder spree and exonerate Bishop.
There was a parchment hung up on the wall as well, a kind of flyer for his museum.
I was about to turn away, to judge it as another useless piece, but something caught my eye. "That script," I murmured, peering closer. "How... curious." I withdrew the journal from my pocket and held up the last page to compare.
It was the same script, the same hand that penned the journal. The same man that eviscerated those women, the same one that had continuously assaulted me, the same man I had my back to...
I whirled around instantly, my blades up in the air to catch the dagger swinging my way. Calixto didn't appear surprised in the slightest, instead looking at me with wicked glee. "I'll give you this, my dear- you provided quite the entertaining chase!"
I scowled and kicked at his chest while Karnwyr went for his legs. The showman howled in pain, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't escape the wolf's vice grip. I held up my silver shortsword, ready to end his miserable life. A vicious, almost terrifyingly manic expression twisted the old man's face until it was barely recognizable.
"Ersan doro i bos bet!"With a bright blast, Karnwyr was thrown, slammed against the wooden wall with a pained whine.
"Karnwyr!" With my guard down, Calixto lunged at me with his dagger drawn. I'd turned at just the right moment, though I earned a decent cut down my right arm. "You filthy son of a bitch!" I raised my left sword, ready to cut him down. His dark brown eyes flicked to the wound on his leg, then on me.
"Anno makien bes ela va!"The villainous murderer vanished into thin air in a cocoon of flame just before I could strike down. Incredulous, the blade dropped from my hand and clattered onto the floor.
"What... in Oblivion?" I whispered, shaking my head before my voice rose into a screech. "Fucking magic!" I swept my head around the room before settling on the small crumpled form of the red wolf at the base of the distant wall. "Karnwyr!" I darted over and inspected the wolf. My heart dropped into my stomach at first, but it lessened when I saw his chest slowly thrumming with movement. At the very least, he was breathing. "Hey, buddy," I cooed, tapping his head. Karnwyr whimpered and kicked his leg a bit but otherwise didn't stir.
A din from outside drew my attention. A chorus of loud shouting followed the clanking of armored boots on the rough stone. I had to strain to make out exactly what was being said. "...Something in Hjerim! Where's Wuunferth? Get the citizens out of the alley and find the mage!"
"Hjerim," I whispered. "Hjerim!" Whatever magic that bastard had cast, it had to have taken him there. I looked at Karnwyr, my thoughts strained. I needed to make sure Karnwyr would be okay, but if I didn't act quickly, Calixo might escape. "Come on, Karnwyr!"
The wolf shifted ever so slightly before slowly lifting his head. His yellow eyes, though half-closed, focused on me well enough. Relief surged through my veins. He'll be okay. He hadn't been knocked unconscious, but he'd have a nasty headache, no doubt. "Stay here, buddy," I told him, tapping his shoulder. "I'll be back." I scrunched up my nose, retrieved my shortswords, and darted out the door. The door slammed hard behind me.
I was going to stop this Butcher before he could take any more lives or destroy any more families.
Even in the darkening twilight sky, I could see smoke rising in the distance. I picked up the pace, somewhat thankful that I didn't have my armor. It would have weighed me down too much; I could run much quicker without it. But I will be at a disadvantage if it comes to melee combat.
Terrified people streamed past me, all herded by the frantic and equally frightened guards. This time, I didn't hesitate to storm into that cursed house. It was the last place I wanted to go, but the first one I needed to.
The inside of the wooden house looked unsuspecting, exactly as it had when I'd first entered it. Ignoring the thudding in my chest, I stormed ahead and pounded on the closed wardrobe door. The wood was hot. "I know you're in there!" I hollered. A putrid stench seeped through the wood, and I had to stifle a cough while covering my mouth. Sadly, the sleeve didn't do much to filter it. "Get out here!" There was no response, but I also didn't want to enter the room. I couldn't do it, especially not so soon.
Luckily, it seemed I wouldn't have to.
Moaning and groaning echoed from the room, then loud scratching sounds. I started to back away into the front room again. I couldn't leave yet.But he had that strange magic; he'd probably just vanish again.
I jumped, more than a little startled, when the wardrobe that had previously been nailed to the wall was ejected from its position, launched at the opposite wall. It exploded into a thousand pieces, and I had to cover my face to avoid being blinded by the shrapnel. Splinters and metal had been shot everywhere, and several shards were now lodged in my skin. It finally made sense where the heat and smoke were coming from, tongues of flame lapping at the walls as it climbed from the room. I couldn't focus on that.
A grotesque, distorted figure stumbled out of the gaping, broken hole where the wardrobe had been. Its eyes were red and rotting. The skin, if it could even be called that, was poorly patched together. Hair fell off in chunks as it turned to face me. It bled from various orifices while pieces of it slowly disintegrated and crumbled to the ground. In short, it was the most horrifying zombie I'd ever seen in my life.
And I hated zombies.
The mangled monster lumbered my way, a horrifying gurgling sound bursting from its throat. Terror gripped me, and I wanted to flee more than anything. Before it could reach me, its left leg detached, the decay too much for it to handle. I watched as the limbs of the undead creature deteriorated one by one. I never touched it; the thing had completely fallen apart by the time it reached me. However, the dread never faded. Few things could terrify me as much as a damn zombie could. "Fuck," I whispered, backing away from the mess of blood and flesh.
More smoke billowed from the room, and I considered that I might have to look into the flames for Calixto. The fire was spreading; the rest of the house would be burning before too long. I looked down at the decomposing zombie on the ground and backed away. I'd have put money on that thing being what the deranged old man had been trying to bring back.
A horrid scream echoed all around the burning home, followed by an utterly furious Calixto emerging from the heavy smoke. "You," he growled, "are a wicked, selfish thing!"
"Coming from a psychotic freak, that's just rich," I replied with a snarl, avoiding looking at the dead zombie. "You son of a bitch!"
Calixto rushed toward me, and I put up my guard instantly. However, instead of attacking me, he'd run to the decaying mass of flesh a few steps away. "Lucilla," he whispered reverently and oh-so-brokenly. If I hadn't known what he'd done, the horrors he'd performed, I might have felt sorry for him. "I tried..." His head moved up, eyes burning with hate. They were rimmed with red, likely from both the smoke slowly filling the room and despair. "You were going to be glorious!" he snarled at me, climbing to his feet. "You should have been proud to help bring Lucilla back! You were going to be part of something beautiful!"
"You really need to work on your definition of beauty!" He lifted up a piece of broken wood, burning embers at the end of it. I wondered for a brief moment why he wasn't using magic before realizing that he wasn't going to be casting anything for a while. The attempt to resurrect his sister was likely more than a little taxing.
I raised my twin blades and met his swing before shoving him back. Calixto dropped the burning wooden plank. After crushing his 'weapon' beneath my foot, I had to laugh. Without his magic, he was nothing. "You fool," he murmured, apparently not realizing his situation. My eyes stung from the smog, and the heat was getting to me. Despite my misgivings, I had to finish this. "Why couldn't you just let it go? Why, dear princess?" The word struck a chord within me. Lifting my lips in a snarl, I kicked up into his groin before sweeping his legs out from under him. Once he was under my foot, I pointed the sword in my right hand at his neck.
"Shut it." I thrust it down, ending Calixto's life with a sharp crack and slice. "Bastard." A small pouch on his person bulged, and after a brief moment, I cut it free from his wretched body. I didn't know what I'd find, but I also didn't have much time to think about it. The supports were weakening, as was my body from the poisonous fog. I'd taken the Butcher down; now it was time to save myself.
Unfortunately for me, just as I turned to face the door, the ceiling caved in just in front of it. Burning embers were thrown about, and my face burned from the debris. "F-fuck!" I coughed. The smoke and heat had grown worse. My skin burned, and the fire was eating away at my tunic. A wheezing cough shook my chest, and all I wanted was to huddle in a corner. The experience was bringing back more memories than I wanted, memories of death and fire.
I felt myself spiraling down, my thoughts closing in on themselves. I squeezed my eyes shut while my breathing quickened, and I desperately tried to backpedal. Not now, I begged my mind. Not the flames... I tried to crawl through the house, staying near the floor where the air was slightly clearer. With luck, I might find a way out. There were windows on the main floor, and at this point, it didn't matter if I smashed one. I just needed to get out.
I started to whimper before I'd even reached the wall. My body failed as my chest continued to heave, my heart feeling like it was about to explode. I stumbled along the floor, lungs barely bringing in air, eyes barely registering a single thing around me, mind going haywire. It wasn't the first time I'd experienced this, bringing a whole new problem about.
I couldn't breathe. My choked gasps weren't enough anymore, not with the smoke. At last, I collapsed onto the burning floor while hot tears streamed down my cheeks. My vision blurred and gave out, sending me spiraling into darkness.
...
The Deadlands laid before me, brimstone and sulfur burning my nose. All I could hear were distant screams and the hoarse screeches of the demons wandering the volcanic land. All around me were disemboweled bodies, burned and cut in every way. They weren't allowed to die; none of us were. We'd been impaled, whipped within an inch of our lives, lost so much blood we shouldn't still be breathing. Fire ate away at our skin, burning metal scorching scars into our bodies.
I couldn't find enough consciousness to truly care about the others at this point. All I felt was a dull morbid sympathy for those around me. Most of my focus was on the constant anguish I was going through every second. Whether it was fire, whips, or weapons, it was agonizing. The burns remained long after the torture, with no way to relieve the pain.
There was no way to tell how much time had elapsed. The sky was unchanging: black clouds of smoke caging the bloodred lightning-streaked sky. Regardless, my torment never ended. Whether it was me beneath the lash and upon the rack or watching another prisoner be taken under the knife to be deformed at our captor's leisure, it left me with scars both inside and out. They burned my legs, whipped at my back, cut my chest and arms.
There was no point in begging for mercy. Creatures like this had none to spare.
I was thrown into the fire, and I felt my flesh melting away. It was indescribably agonizing. The wicked chortling from the Dremora captors above echoed through the Deadlands while the crackling flame, at last, ended me.
My soul never made it to Aetherius. Torn down from the emptiness, I was reformed into their prisoner. A new body without scars or imperfections, a clean slate for their torture. All I wanted was to die for good, to end the suffering. It was not the first time I'd died here, and it wouldn't be the last. The pain would be eternal.
An eternity in the Deadlands.
…
…
…
Ersan doro i bos bet!: Cast aside the forest beast!
Anno makien bes ela va!: May fire send me home!