Days had passed. My only interruption was a Beastman who brought food to me and the others in the tent. After a few days, boredom drove me to try to move, but my attempts to stand met with little success. That failure frustrated me to no end.
More days slipped by, and I began to pray for anything—anything at all—to break the dull boredom. I would soon regret that wish.
That same pressure returned, heavy and suffocating. Then came the cold—a deep, bone‑chilling cold. Like a rabbit surrounded by wolves. My heart hammered in my chest, as if trying to escape, and my fear only grew when the thin, starved figure revealed itself.
This time, he carried a crude bag in one hand and a staff in the other. The Beastman walked with a strength his body should not have possessed. His eye pinned me in place like a dagger at my throat. Green lightning leapt from it, curling around his horns, writhing as though it moved of its own will. The sight unsettled me deeply.
I watched as the Beastman released his grip on the staff. It did not fall. Instead, it rose from the ground, floating beside him.
His hands plunged into the crude bag. From it, he withdrew a rough white bowl. Then came other things—plants, objects I could not name. But when I saw what looked like a human eye, I froze.
No. This wasn't good.
Next, he removed a green stone that pulsed with a sickly glow. The light made my skin crawl, and for a brief moment I could have sworn I saw a red—or blue—eye staring back at me from within the stone before it vanished. He dropped the stone into the bowl.
A mockery of a smile spread across the Beastman's face as he crushed and mixed the contents together. Slowly, he lowered the bowl, pressing it against my snout.
I hesitated. But when his smile turned threatening, I drank the foul‑tasting mixture.
I regretted it instantly.
Pain tore through my body, as if my flesh were ripping itself apart from the inside. I wished I had thrown myself upon his anger instead—it could not have been worse than this. My misshapen mouth opened in a silent scream. Every nerve felt as though it had been set alight.
I writhed in agony, but nothing—nothing at all—could stop the pain.