Severin Reignhart stood in a butcher house. Literally. When he closed his eyes in the caskets, he saw a flash of white light that bloated everything else out, and then when it was finally gone, he found himself in a butcher house.
Blood made the air smell like rusting metal. It was mixed with rot and the smell of unwashed flesh.
Severin picked himself from the ground. Blood was soaked on his clothes, but he didn't mind. He was busy staring around him with a grim expression.
Shelves with hooks stood in neat rows around the room. The hooks, those not occupied, were covered in old blood and bits of flesh.
Severin Reignhart looked around.
On each shelf was human meat.
They were hooked into the shelves, chests pried open and cleaned, inner organs long gone. They were of different sizes and gender. Some with their heads, some without their limbs. They were hung there.
