His vision slowly became clear as he gradually came out of unconsciousness, his head spinning. A dull throb pulsed behind his eyes, a phantom echo of the chaos.
"Ah, what a dream,"
Eric said to himself, a dry, raspy whisper. He blinked a few times, trying to focus, and then the full, jarring reality of his situation kicked in.
He was tied to a thick pole in a large, dimly lit room. The whole of his body, from his shoulders down, was covered in thick, woven strings that dug into his skin.
Beside him, tied to another pole, was Yelena, who had been awake the whole time, her face a mask of detached calm.
Across from her, also bound, was Jimmy, still deeply unconscious. In the center of the triangle they formed, Brygo sat perched on a chair, the seat facing away from the backrest, a sinister smile plastered across his scarred face.
"Bloody hell,"
Eric muttered, his mind racing to process the absurdity.
"Rise and shine, Eric Blackmoor,"
Brygo said, his smile stretching wider.
