Prologue
“On my count of three, press your button.”
I squirmed around a lot. It was only natural; those rough leather straps scraped across my skin, making me feel all sorts of weird sensations. I didn’t bother to look around, I wasn’t going to find anyone I valued in the crowd before me. My eyes stung anyway; I spent most of my time in that stupid solitary confinement room, and there, light could be considered a luxury.
The only thing I could smell was my own overconfidence. I was sure soon enough, they would call this whole thing off and send me back into my little room.
“3...”
A bead of cold sweat rolled down my forehead. Last time, there was no countdown. The room was painfully silent, the only source of noise being the faint shuffle of my clothes against the chair I was bound in.
“2...”
The electrode that sat upon my head seemed to get heavier with each passing second. I could feel the air wrap around my neck. My heart began to hammer against my ribs - the overconfidence I had before dissipating almost instantly. Something was wrong, they had never made it this far in previous attempts.
“1...”
I lost it. I began to scream. I begged, I pleaded, I cried. I thrashed violently back and forth, hoping my efforts would somehow snap the leather that kept me bound. Memories of my victims flashed through my mind: their screams as I pulled out their pulpy bowels, the endless cries of mercy they assaulted me with as I carved them out. It was ironic. Right now, I was my own victim.
“Press your Bu-”
I never even got to hear the rest of the sentence. My body erupted in pain. An inferno engulfed my being, whipping at my charring skin. I tried to scream, but my airways convulsed, clamping shut. I could feel my flesh being torn and my nerve endings melting under the sudden overuse. My vision faltered, the world around me exploding into blazing oranges and blinding whites. With one last painful inhale, I slumped back. The smell of my burnt flesh crawling through the air.
Then came a feeling I could only describe as nothingness. It wrapped around me, its smooth tendrils dissolving my pain, thoughts, and feelings. Time lost all meaning; it could have been seconds or a millennium, but I didn’t care. I embraced the gentle caress of the void.
“Yuviet Malum. A fitting name for the axe executioner.”
The voice slammed into me, carrying the weight of my actions. The tendrils of nothingness retreated back into the void, leaving my disjointed memories behind. My head pulsed in pain as I tried to piece my fragmented mind back together.
Wrath. Wrath. Wrath.
I shrieked. Scenes of carnage flashed before my mind. Entrails littered the floors. Blood ran down the walls. Mangled bodies lay strewn across the ground, mutilated beyond belief. And at the heart of each scene, I was in there. The face of wrath etched upon mine.
“Sixty-six acts of murder. You serve as a suitable vessel for Wrath.”
I watched in horror as each scene played out one after another. I swung my axe, aiming at anything that moved. Chilling screams and gurgles flooded the air.
“For the sins you have committed as an Envoy of Wrath, you are to be sentenced to Endurhold.”
The void began to collapse on itself and rip apart. The air around me became heavy and oppressive, suffocating me with its intensity. I clutched my head; a thousand voices and thoughts flowed throughout my mind. I saw death. I saw pain. I saw Endurhold.
No. No. No!
Tears rolled down my face - fear gnawing away at me. I felt a violent yank, and was pulled from the void, through a veil of horrifying white light, and back into reality.
