The chains bit into Veythor’s ankles as Darius and two others hauled him upward. His small fra swung in the night air, blood rushing to his head, hair dangling like a dark veil. The fire below hissed and spat, the heat licking his skin before the flas even touched him. Sparks leapt upward as though eager to taste his flesh.
Shimi’s muffled sobs carried from the shadows, each trembling note breaking against the night like fragile glass. Raika, however, stared blankly, hollow eyes following the boy’s inverted form as though he were already seeing a corpse hanging before burial.
The tribe gathered closer. A sea of faces flickered in the firelight, eyes reflecting greed, cruelty, hunger. They leaned in, waiting not for answers, not for truth, but for the sound they craved most. Screams. The snapping of a child’s spirit. The final cry of surrender.
But Veythor’s lips curled instead. Dirt streaked his face, blood pooled where the chains dug into his ankles, yet upside down, with his crimson eyes glowing faintly through strands of hair, he looked less like prey and more like sothing alien. Sothing wrong. A child-shaped predator who welcod the fire’s kiss.
So this is their grand test? Fire and ti?
He exhaled slowly, like a man unimpressed by theater. Emata leaned on her staff, the flas etching her wrinkles into deeper scars. Her grin held no rcy, only curiosity... the cruel kind that enjoyed breaking things just to hear the sound.
"Let’s see if your laughter survives the fire, boy."
The crowd roared approval, stamping feet against the dirt, rhythm echoing like drums of war.
The flas climbed higher, snapping and twisting. Veythor’s hair began to singe, the acrid sll curling into the air. The heat clawed at his skin, prying at him, daring him to flinch.
But when his eyes flicked open again, crimson light sharpened within them, hungrier, sharper, like steel glinting in the dark.
"Lady Emata."
Darius’s voice cracked through the rising murmur, thin and brittle, yet desperate.
"I... I want to suggest sothing, if I may."
Emata had been smiling, her lips curled with cruel amusent. But at his words, the curve stiffened, turned cold. Slowly, her half-lidded eyes slid toward him.
"What?" she asked, her tone deceptively soft. "You may speak."
Darius swallowed, nodding quickly. Across the firelight, Dasha still hadn’t looked away from Veythor. Her sharp eyes clung to his face, tracing his eerie calm with sothing close to fascination.
"M-Madam..." Darius stamred. His hands twitched as if unable to rest, his throat dry. "I think... perhaps we should... give this boy until tomorrow night."
The warmth seed to vanish from the fire.
"Darius," Emata said slowly, her voice scraping like a blade across stone. "Have you grown wings? You dare question my orders? Do you even realize the weight of what you’ve just asked?"
Panic seized him. His legs stiffened. His trembling hands clenched and unclenched like fish gasping on dry land.
"No—no, Lady, you misunderstand! That wasn’t my aning...."
Her narrowed eyes pinned him, heavy as iron.
"Is that so? Then enlighten . Where am I wrong?"
Darius licked his lips, sweat dripping down his brow. He forced the words out.
"Tomorrow... is the full moon. As always, we give sacrifices to Lord Dogundra. This ti will be no exception. So why waste blood from our tribe... when we have these three?"
The tension shattered. Emata’s silence gave way to a smirk, slow, cruel. Laughter rippled through the tribesfolk, applause erupting like thunder in the night.
"Darius is the best!"
soone roared. Others whistled, chuckled, slapping their thighs, voices rising with savage delight. Veythor’s crimson eyes narrowed.
Sacrifices? A ritual...? And this Dogundra.... so godlike entity? Or sothing worse?
The flas crackled on, but for him, the fire’s heat was nothing compared to the questions now burning inside.
"Ok then."
Emata’s voice rang out as she handed the whip to Darius. He stared at the leather in shock, his fingers stiffening.
"Give him a good beating until he spits valuable information."
As she spoke, she turned and walked away. Many followed her, murmuring and laughing, though so remained, eager to witness blood and screams.
Shimi and Raika lowered their heads. Sha and dread weighed on them like chains. Dasha finally spoke, her voice sharp, directed at Veythor.
"You should tell us everything instead of being hit by a whip. Because, nevertheless you tell us or not, the only destiny that waits for you is death. So if I were you, I would have spat everything."
Veythor chuckled, the sound grating.
"That’s why you are a stupid shit."
The venom in his words pierced her like an arrow. Her eyes trembled; her lips parted in shock. "What?" she muttered.
Darius stepped forward. His voice cut the air.
"Step back, Dasha. It’s enough."
Dasha lowered her gaze and stepped aside. The whip cracked once through the air, sharp as thunder. Veythor lifted his half-lidded eyes, his body hanging, waiting. Darius hesitated for a second Then the whip struck.
"Aaaaghhhh."
The sound tore out, but with it ca laughter, bubbling, taunting.
"Tell everything you know, brat," Darius demanded, his hand trembling.
"I know nothing," Veythor smirked. The whip fell again.
"Aaaaghhhhhhh."
Groans followed by laughter. Over and over. Each lash bit into his skin, each line opening, flesh bruising, blood welling. Yet with every strike, the sa rhythm followed.... pain, then laughter. The crowd’s hunger shifted into unease. Darius’s shock grew with every stroke.
"What is this kid? How’s this even possible for a kid to endure this?"
He struck harder. Shimi burst into sobs, trembling violently. She had held back, biting her lips raw, but the sound of his laughter breaking through screams shattered her. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Darius struck again.
"Aaaaahhh... Hehehe... Hehehe."
The sight was unbearable to her. Shimi snapped.
"No... no, stop! Please stop! I’ll tell you... I’ll tell you everything!"
Her voice cracked like glass under pressure. Veythor’s eyes widened, a spark of rage flaring in the crimson glow.Raika collapsed his body still hanging with tal bar, hunger dragging him into unconsciousness once more.
The whip froze mid-air. Darius lowered it, stunned. Dasha leaned forward, smirking cruelly in Veythor’s face.
"Shimi, don’t."
Veythor roared, fury breaking through his mask.
"I have to!" Shimi’s sobs tore from her throat. "I can’t bear to watch you get tortured in front of ... I can’t!"
Her voice shook, desperate, broken. Veythor sighed deeply, the sound bitter as poison.
"This idiotic, stupid bitch."
He cursed inwardly. Darius turned toward her, eyes sharp with newfound greed. He stepped closer, looming over her trembling figure.
"Tell , little one," he said, voice oily with malice. "Tell what you know, little girl."
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