READER BEWARE: This is a very intense chapter. Gore, torture, and murder ahead.

After Midnight, June 17, Year of the Great Kingdom 597

The rage. The absolutely pure, unadulterated rage that came over these women… cannot be put into accurate words. Gormund and his daughter were brutally dragged outside – the man begging them not to 'harm his vai' while Telma pleaded with them not to hurt him. The Gerudo ignored them both and, once they were outside again, twisted Gormund's arms behind his back and lifted him off the ground. Telma was dragged farther away and held captive by two of the intimidating warriors.

The commander began shouting at him, drawing out her dagger, but the farm dwellers had no idea what she was saying. Her voice was furious, and filled with disgust. Telma continued to scream and wail at them to let him go, but one of her guards firmly closed a hand over her mouth to silence her. With a flick of her wrist, the Gerudo slashed his right cheek open, then his left. Gormund tried, valiantly, to resist the pain – grinding his outcry down into a strained growl.

More shouting and more cuts followed. She clipped the ends of his ears off, then sliced a large "X" over his lips, then… she began dragging the point of her blade over his chest, down his abdomen, and toward his groin. Telma could never bring herself to tell anyone the full horrors of what she was forced to witness that night, but the Gerudo did everything that they pleased to get revenge against 'this Hylian pig' that dared to capture and take one of their own as his 'comfort vai.'

His screams echoed over the landscape as she cut him and the warriors laughed cruelly once she held his flesh up and showed it to him. Telma suddenly lurched, drawing her captor's hand away and retched over the ground before her. With one final swing of her arm, the commander slashed open his abdomen and spilled his organs over the ground between them. His guards dropped him and he trembled pitifully in shock as he bled out. All who stood near him, spat upon his body, and wiped off the blood from their weapons upon his clothes.

The world was spiraling now. Violently, chaotically, everything around her whirled in a sickening blur. She couldn't breathe. Between the vomiting and demonic hand that seemed to clench at her throat, Telma couldn't draw air into her lungs. Her heart no longer seemed to beat – it just clenched itself into an awful, hard stone inside of her chest. Her own guards now dropped her and she lay upon her side in the soiled grass. The sound of his cry and the look in his eyes filled her mind and would not leave her.

The Gerudo captain sheathed her blade, spat on the filthy Hylian, and turned back to the young woman. She was screaming at them and retching upon the ground at the man's death. "She must have been his captive for a long time, for her to be tricked like this." She thought to herself. Waving to her soldiers, the woman's guards dropped her and let her retch and moan upon the ground.

"Her mind is gone." The captain declared, "But everything of his, is now hers. Load it onto the cart and send her back to Outlast. She can regain her life there."

The warriors did as they were told. Searching the house once again, anything they found of value was quickly gathered into baskets and loaded onto a crude cart that they had taken from another farm. Once the house was empty, they dropped torches inside and allowed it to burn.

As the orange-yellow light of the fire grew, Telma's shattered mind managed to urge her to try and help her papa. Very slowly, and shaking fiercely, she began to crawl toward his body, hoarsely whimpering, "Papa… papa." But the women quickly stopped her, and dragged her over to the cart as well. She couldn't resist them; her body was becoming too weak. She could only stare at his bloody, unmoving form and agonize over his torment.

"Her mind is gone. Keep her bound until you reach Outlast!" the captain commanded the driver. "She's Gerudo, but she's been in his hands for a long time, beware of her!" The wagon master nodded that she understood, and turned their horse about to head south once more. For Telma, the last memory of the only home that ever accepted her, was of the house and shed burning into the night and her beloved father's body, disemboweled and steaming in the cold night air.

She lost consciousness not long after they turned southward. Drifting in and out of reality, Telma eventually saw the burning, crumbling Citadel as the wagon rumbled past. The high tower had been broken off about half way up its height – the stones blackened with powerful blast marks, and the keep and outer walls were consumed in a massive fire.

Telma felt as though she were dying. Everything she ever knew – the entire world as it was, was being destroyed… and she was being carried away… into hell.