“Aaaygh!” Gudrun wailed, her head facing the cavern ceiling high overhead. “Why? Why?”
The obsidian gargoyle fiendishly clutching both of her wrists twisted them towards the floor, while leaning down and into her, his face pressed against hers.
“Have I your attention, human?” Sepanyahd hissed into Gudrun’s cheek. “Where did your group take your son?”
The woman twitched in a frenzy of torment, her body recoiling at her captor’s touch. Her mind was stunned by the severe anguish pulsing through her arms. It was if all she had ever known in life was suffering. Almost. Like tatters of a shredding dream, vague images bolted through her, carried on the stabbing pains clouding her mind. Yet, the images anchored her. Deep inside, Gudrun realized her sanity would soon be crushed if she didn’t focus on these fleeting images.
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