The sky was pitch black — deep, almost liquid — yet streaked with green reflections that rippled lazily, like waves of emerald beneath the skin of the world. I had lifted my eyes despite the pain, despite the rope still biting into my wrists. The gag had long since slipped off, soaked with sweat, dust, and blood. For some reason I couldn't fathom, they hadn't bothered to put it back — maybe because they knew I no longer had the strength to do anything.
Those shades fascinated me. On Earth, I'd never had the chance to see the northern lights. Maybe they looked like this — that strange blend of darkness and living light. A peaceful spectacle above a moving hell.
For a moment, I almost forgot the burning in my back. Then reality struck, brutal.
My skin scraped against stone.
