Her eyelids were heavy but a warm light shone through them, welcoming her back to consciousness. She lifted her head and looked around – she was surrounded by candles, at least forty of them, sitting on shelves and the floor and a table that huddled in the corner of the small room. She was lying on a bed, covered in a soft blanket, with nothing else to keep her warm.
Her head was foggy – where was she? What was she doing here? Who was she?
Leaning back on her elbows, she rolled her head back and her neck cracked. Her body ached but there were no bruises or cuts to indicate why it hurt. She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand and was startled at how cold she was. Focusing on breathing, she noticed the white fog that escaped her lips with each breath, and placing her hand over a flame of one of the candles, she noticed they emitted no heat.
She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, placing her bare feet on the stone floor. She saw a door on the far end of the room, so she started to move towards it. Her legs were weak and as soon as she took her first step, she was picking herself off the ground. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. As she struggled closer towards to the door, the further she seemed to get. After a few long, agonizing minutes, she slid down the closest wall. She couldn't leave.
Fisting her hands into her head, she tried to remember what she was obviously missing.
After a few long beats of silence, nothing but the heat-less flames crackling and her restrained sobs to fill the shallow space, she heard the door creak open. A dark figure, cloaked in the shadows of the candles, walked towards her. She tried to catch a glimpse of his face, but she couldn't focus long enough to register his features. When he was close enough, his scent filled her scenes. He smelled like ash and sweat and….
...she screamed, because suddenly the room changed, and she was no longer in the room with the candles, but pressed against a cold table in an room with nothing but her and a few torture instruments. Standing over her was a smiling Baal, and as he picked up something that looked like a claw, he petted her hair and whispered into her ear: "Let's begin."