Warning: The description ahead might disturb some readers so skip it till scene break if you are uncomfortable. Happy reading.
.....
The stench of burnt flesh lingered in the air.
Blood dripped from the shrouded man's fingertips, each crimson drop splashing onto the muddy floor beneath him.
His body hung helplessly against a thick tree trunk.
Two daggers had been driven clean through his palms, pinning him high enough that the tips of his feet barely brushed the ground.
Every slight movement forced the blades to tear deeper into flesh already shredded beyond recognition.
Well, at this point the man has forget about resisting let alone running away. He knew what that would lead to. And not like he anymore had the spirit to think of escaping.
His once pristine robe had become little more than charred rags clinging to scorched skin. Even the subtle shift caused by air reminding him how his body has went through the torture.
Dark bruises covered nearly every inch of his body.
