Galen Astuart Suragon

Drip! Drip! 

Came the soft sound of blood dropping on the hard wooden floor.

Blink! Blink!

Blood-veiled eyes cracked open weakly in a dark room, with only a tiny ray of the moon seeping in through the holes in the tightly shut windows.

Where am I?

Galen tried to move but he immediately realized he was dangling upside down in a dark room, blood flowing into his brain.

What the hell, what is going on? How did I get here?

Before his brain could form answers, the doors to the room burst open and two hefty men marched him, their legs dragging across the wood.

"Still breathing, are we? We wagered you wouldn't last the night," one said, while the other burst into laughter.

"Given his frail body, I thought he would not survive a night of torture. Who would have imagined he would last three days?"

Wait a damn minute? Three days of what?!

Before Galen could collect his thoughts, a cold bucket of water with traces of ice was splashed on his face.

"Aargh!" Galen howled, convulsing against the ropes tethering him to the ceiling, but he quickly shut his mouth as the pain from the bruising on the insides of his mouth reverberated through his body.

Galen gritted his teeth as he forced his eyes open to look at the men who had just assaulted him. The second man was holding a torch, which made him see their faces.

"How dare you?" His voice, like a rusty blade scraping bone, echoed through the room. If eyes could kill, his would have ripped them into a thousand pieces. 

The room grew still in an instant, the two men staring at him like they had just seen a ghost, like they had just heard something foreign, something unbelievable.

"I swear, I'll flay the flesh from your bones and make you feast upon your marrow in the flames of hell," Galen screamed, but his voice did not sound as intimidating as he would have wanted it to. Rather, it was wet with pain and sounded like he was about to shed tears.

There was a second of silence before the two men burst into nerve-crackling laughter. They held the pits of their stomachs as they laughed, heads thrown back.

"Oh my, my!" the one holding the torch spoke as he walked to the corner of the room and hung it on the bracket. The other one could not hold his laughter. "Blood must have flowed into the wrong brain cell. The poor soul is hallucinating."

This must be a dream! There was no way in hell his life was in the hands of filthy human beings. He needed to wake up!

Galen bit the insides of his already bruised chin in a bid to rouse himself from this nightmare, but all that filled his mouth was the metallic, salty taste of his own blood.

"Maybe he needs to be brought back to his senses, this should do."

Before Galen could look at what the man was referring to, he felt his head arched up, and a steel syringe was inserted into his nose. In a second, Galen felt his brain begin to fry. A loud scream foreign to his ears reverberated through the room as he writhed in uncontrollable pain. Blood mixed with hot peppery liquid dripped from his eyes, ears, and nose onto the ground as the chili mixture wrecked his insides. He could not remember the last time he felt this amount of soul-wrecking pain. 

A hundred years ago, maybe? The last time he had been this helpless was when he lost his wife. The last time he prayed for death was when he knelt in front of his burning house, and listened to the screams of his wife as she roasted to death.

Galen's eyes closed shut as the echoes of the men's laughter disappeared into the distance. He could not remember how much longer he was conscious, but after some time, he felt his body drop to the ground, and everything went blank.

…

The sound of approaching footsteps followed by soft sounds of a woman's laughter.

"It's been a long time, Galen Astuart Suragon."

Galen's eyes opened to a woman smiling with folded arms. Her purple hair flowed down her back, and her eyes glowed of crimson red. 

He looked around him and saw that he was suspended in the clouds, sitting on a chair made of thorns. On his arms were chains made of thorns. Galen tried to pull himself free, all to no avail. The more he pulled, the more the thorns held him stronger.

He looked back at the woman who was still smiling like she was enjoying what he was going through, his jaws clenching.

"Salt," he called, as he fisted his palms. "What did you do to me?"

"Now, now. Is that the first thing you say to the one who saved your life?" The woman asked, a sly smile on her lips. 

"You are one ungrateful soul, don't you think?"

She said as she walked towards Galen, lowering her head so she was staring straight in his eyes.

Galen took deep breaths, and closed his eyes. 

It was hard staring into her flaming red eyes, if everything was normal, it wouldn't be a problem, but something was wrong. Something was very wrong. 

Salt laughed and backed away from him, and Galen opened his eyes, which was blurred with tears.

"Where am I, Salt? Unchain me and stop this little game; you've had your fun."

He said, pushing himself against the chains again, but winced when the thorns cut into his flesh.

The last thing he remembered was going to sleep after the feast of lungs. 

The yearly feast he threw, to celebrate his victory in conquering the world.

But what did he wake up to? His body suspended in the air and being tortured by mere mortals?

"I stole you for a minute, don't worry, I'll be sending you back soon."

Galen drew in a breath. "Salt, I don't know what games you are playing at, but I don't want to be part of it. Undo these chains; I have important matters to attend to."

There was a moment of silence, and then Salt laughed, soft but mocking as she stared at Galen.

"I think you are forgetting something, Galen. I made you who you are. You are in no place to make demands. I gave you everything you have. Immortality, powers, but what do you do with it?"

Galen exhaled. He remembered. A hundred years ago, when his wife was killed and her body shredded into pieces and burnt to ashes by humans, he had run to a cliff to jump over, but she had appeared and offered him a second chance at life.

You would have unparalleled powers, and you will have the world bow to you.

At that time, he took the chance without a second blink; he traded his soul for immortality; for unparalleled powers. He was going to hell anyway, it was better to go in grand style. 

"What did you expect I do to the people who had killed the one I loved the most?" he asked, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, did they?" Salt asked, her head tilted to the side. "Or did you want to think they did?"

There was silence.

Then Galen laughed; "I remember that day like it was yesterday, Salt. I'm not interested in your little games."

"Oh you do?" she laughed again. "I did not think you would still refuse to remember; it has been a hundred years, Galen. You of all people should remember who killed your wife."

Galen bucked against the chains that held him tightly. "I don't have time for this useless chitchat. Untie me; I have urgent matters to attend to."

"Like rendering the rest of the world useless, I presume? You can no longer do that."

"What?" Galen's brows furrowed. "I don't understand what you just said."

"It's as simple as I have said, Galen. Your compounded crimes have finally reached heaven's gate, and now you would be punished. You would taste of your own medicine; you would become that which you detest with your soul." 

Galen's face drained of all color as he stared at the woman in front of him. "You must be kidding me. Salt, you cannot…"

"Oh, yes I can. Now, you would become a miserable, powerless human, and what is worse than a powerless human? A powerless mage."

"Salt! You cannot do this to me, Salt, you cannot possibly turn me mortal?" Salt laughed.

"Oh, and there's a little surprise waiting for you. I think you would love it!'' she chuckled; ''Goodbye Galen."

"Salt! No… you cannot do this… Salt!" Galen screamed as the woman turned around and disappeared into the clouds, and then, as though he has been shot by an arrow to the head, everything went blank again.