The Dark Sire Issue 4 (Summer 2020) | Page 73

“Well it’s killing me,” Wank shouted, unsure if it was true, though his body shook and his limbs sagged as if water logged. “I believe I can maintain you for quite some time,” the creature answered. “There are still many places to visit in your mind that do not exist.” The voice echoed in his skull alongside the incessant dripping that bounced a mesmerizing melody through his brain. Tendrils of thought snaked around, caressed memories from the body of his life like some cruel lover’s touch intent on evoking personal pleasure from another’s pain. Images of past agonies flashed passed so fast Wank gasped, confusion having set in as to where, in time, he might exactly be. Ping. He cowered in his mother’s alcove, the left side of his face still stinging from Rahsik-ba’s backhand as he dragged her out by the hair. Ping. He hung like a limp boar carcass from chains in the Pit, his back flayed, his mind void of anything but pain. Ping. He shrunk deeper into the shadows near the worg pens, shunned and envious of his broodmates as they worked with young wolves. The shadows that answered his call began to gather around him. Wank heard an audible gasp and his mind abruptly returned to the damp cavern of his current captor. Stabbing pain entered his right eye and shot past the back of his throat. His eyes flickered open as orange waves of 71