There was nothing else in the room. It was large for all it contained, easily five times bigger than my cell, and a single hook was embedded into each wall, a lantern held on each, bathing the room in dancing light. The Grave Watch gathered near the door and continued to talk amongst themselves. They spoke of people they didn't like, people they'd like to know better, of many other inconsequential things. The wait frayed my nerves. I have never liked being tied down or constricted, and the chair I was strapped to left me little room to move.
Eventually the Grave Watch heard footsteps and took their places; two by the wall behind me and the third standing to attention next to the door as it opened. Prena stepped through followed by the Emperor and an ancient, withered old man I did not know. The Emperor smiled, Prena scowled.
"Oh, this is most excellent," the Emperor said in that energetic, charming voice of his. "I can already see there's some fire in your eyes. It's amazing what a little rest will do for a person's humours." The door swung shut with a damning finality. I saw Prena shake her head, a pitying glance sent my way. "Now," the Emperor continued. "I'll be dealing with your stay personally. This is master Tivens." He placed a light hand on the ancient man's shoulder. "He's my tutor in such matters. Fifty years' experience in the arts. Don't worry, he'll stop me if I get carried away."
"Fuck you, you cunt!" I put as much venom as I could into the insult, but the Emperor just laughed as he produced a pair of heavy iron pliers.
"We'll get right to it then." The warmth in his voice vanished, replaced by a sinister air. "I am quite pressed for time, what with having an empire to run. And you really thought to challenge me for it. Idiot girl."
The two Grave Watch behind me moved forwards. One grabbed my right hand, forcing my fingers to splay out on the arm of the chair I was strapped to, the other placed hands on my shoulder, pushing me down into the chair. The Emperor approached and set the pliers around the nail of my index finger. He gripped tight and pulled a little and the pain started. Tearing, ripping. Like hundreds of needles stabbing into the skin.
"Did you know," the Emperor said, lessening the pressure. Already my breathing was coming fast and ragged as I tried to brace for the pain I knew was to come. "There are over twenty different screams of pain a person can produce."
I glanced down at my right hand. The pliers were still in place, but there was no blood yet. I could feel my own fear making my heart race. I should have been able to taste it, to draw strength from it through Ssserakis, but my horror remained silent and distant, as though it were not even there. The Emperor was still talking. The fucker really liked the sound of his own voice.
"… varying in tone and pitch. Each is produced by different stimuli. But what's really interesting, is that each person is different. Different stimuli producing the same screams."
I groaned. The anticipation of the pain was unbearable.
"Am I boring you?" the Emperor asked.
"Ye—" My reply ended in a scream of agony as my fingernail was slowly ripped from its bed.
He waited for my scream to die down. It took some time and he smiled at me through all of it. When I quieted, he started again. "I want you to know how close you came," he said, his voice gone cold again. "You might have realised the army I sent against your monsters was somewhat diminished." Two thousand soldiers was a smaller force. At the fall of Orran, the Terrelan army had numbered well into their tens of thousands. "I'm afraid that was all I could muster on such short notice. So many of my troops are forced to spend their time maintaining peace in the empire. Oh, I say Orrans have been integrated into what is now Terrelan, but it's not entirely true. There is resistance. And it is all your fault."
I shook my head, trying to clear away the fuzzy edges left by the agony. Trying to understand his words.
"The last of the Orran Sourcerers. A rebel fighting for independence, for freedom, for rights. That's what they call you. Eskara Helsene: survived the war, escaped the Pit, thwarted my Knights of Ten, returned and pulled a city from the earth." He paused and chewed at his lip for a moment. "They have unified around you, around your name. Rebel factions have been popping up all over old Orran, and seditious whispers have even been heard over on the Terrelan side of my empire." He sighed. "That is where most of my troops are focused, on keeping the peace. But I intend to use you to put the rebels down for good. If I executed you, my own people would turn against me for breaking tradition, and I would only succeed in turning you into a martyr. But, when you take the noose and end your own life, I will show your broken corpse to the world. Bereft of their unifying catalyst, the rebellious elements will break down." He approached me again and set the pliers to my thumbnail. I'm ashamed to say I let out a whimper. I knew the pain was coming and I didn't want it. I didn't want any of it. "But don't for a moment think I want that to happen quickly. My empire will survive these rebels for as long as is needed, for as long as you can hold out."
By the time the Emperor was done with me that day I had no nails left on my right hand. I think he would have moved onto my left, but one look at the solid stone of my arm convinced it would be a fruitless endeavour, and the Emperor hated doing anything that wasn't to the purpose of breaking my spirit. My voice was raw from screaming out my pain, and none of those wails were drawn voluntarily. They were ripped out of me just as my nails were. And each time that hateful fucking bastard drew pleasure from my pain. Master Tivens gave helpful pointers and occasionally tutted at work he considered sloppily done. I would have ripped out his throat if I had been free. Each time the nail was gone, dumped on the floor like the worthless, bloody flesh it was, the pain ebbed from a sharp agony to dull, throbbing ache. Each time the nail was gone and I could think once more, I hated everyone in that room. The Grave Watch, Master Tivens, Prena, and the Emperor. My rage knew no limits. I tried to reach for my power over and over again, but there was no strength left to it. My Arcstorm was there, but I could not even summon a spark. Ssserakis was coiled tight, its power to manipulate my shadow withdrawn from my use. I had nothing left to fight with. And they knew it. They knew I was powerless. They counted on it.
Drenched in cold sweat, shaking from the pain, and babbling whispered curses. That is how the Emperor left me on that first day. His work done, he handed the pliers to one of the Grave Watch and strode from the torture chamber with Prena falling in a step behind. At least she had the good grace to look sickened by what had been done to me. Master Tivens wrapped my right hand in bandages and forced me to drink water that tasted of herbs, then he too left. The Grave Watch unfixed my manacles and led me back to my cell. I say they led me, but mostly they dragged me. I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. Back in my cell I found bread and water waiting for me. One thing I will say about the Red Cells, they fed me well down there. How else would I keep my strength up to withstand the Emperor's ministrations?
That first day was a bad one. The days that followed were even worse.
Chapter 27
This is one of Josef's memories.
Another prisoner is dumped in front of Josef, this one wearing the faded robes of a monk, the symbol of Lursa on his breast. The Orran empire had always considered worship of the moons heretical. They had always considered any form of worship heretical. Terrelan, however, had welcomed believers of both Lursa and Lokar, and claimed it was their prayers that brought the moon showers. Josef places his hand on the man's shoulder, and draws the life force out of him, channelling the power into the metal sceptre and the Source affixed to the end. The body slumps away from him, dead flesh worthless.