Burning, scolding pain shooting through my ankle has my senses returning with a vengeance as a scream of agony tears its way through my throat. I gasp for air, the unexpected physical pain compounding with my mental and spiritual fatigue to create a brand new kind of torture.
I try to move my arms, but something around my wrists weighs them down. As I pant, I force myself to focus past the blur of my vision, and slowly, Invidia’s familiar frame comes into view. She’s squatting in front of me, her bone-white hair tied up in a short pony, the strands too short to be contained by the hair elastic framing her face. The only thing illuminating my stoney prison are two sconces holding a single flickering candle on opposite walls. The light around me is dim at best, making Invidia’s toasted brow
