So I endure. I watch. I burn every agonizing image, every profane act into my consciousness like searing brands. Let the fires of hatred and righteous vengeance build within me into an unstoppable inferno to be unleashed at the perfect moment.
Finally, after what seems an eternity, Kariz steps back from the decimated, barely-recognizable figure strapped to the rack. His blade and gauntleted fists drip with her blood as he wipes his brow with a look of perverse satisfaction.
"And there you have it," he rasps, shooting me a cold look. "The true unburdened essence, ready for its new role in service to our grand design. All that remains is the final purifying touch."
He reaches for an ornate branding iron, its tip glowing malevolent orange from where it rests heating in a brazier. My breath
