Dragged back to his cell, the guards' laughter was cruel, sharp and once again-cold…
"You put up a good fight, eh, serpent?" one guard jeered.
"Yeah, look at you now," another joined in, "mighty rebel leader!"
They threw him inside, the sound of his chains clanged against the floor.
Then, for their sick amusement, they rolled the severed heads of his friends into the cell with him.
"Here, a souvenir from Mateo!"
The heads came to a stop, their once alive and fully eyes now looked dull and white, faces covered with their own lifeblood.
Karyan looked at them, his gaze was hollow, his heart leaden with unspeakable pain.
He didn't need to say anything; the silence was louder than any words of sorrow or rage he might have spoken.
He crawled towards them, every movement to him felt like a battle against the pain that racked his body.
He gathered them in his arms, their lifeless gaze stared back at him.
