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Chapter 21 - Zhorun's Unsought Victory
Lyral screamed again as she dragged herself on the floor. Her crushed fingers
and toes had been encased in vises fastened to heavy lead weights, so her
wriggling on the floor had been turned into an odyssey, purposefully prolonged
by dropping her at the opposite end of the unlit chamber from her friend.
Locating Kayleen was not a problem, however, because the once proud warrior
kept sobbing bitterly and often burst in short, harsh screams of exhausted
agony. Lyral still remembered how they had tightened her new restraints and
then hung her, her full weight on her torn thigh and shoulder joints and her
mauled body bent at the waist, in the grip of the wicked iron waistband.
She had been spared the twisting of her arms behind her back, probably because
they feared her arms would not hold the strain for long, but her front had been
lowered amidst wooden stumps wrapped in stinging nettles. To avoid their sting
on blistered and wounded flesh, even temporarily, she still managed to pull
herself up, although this wracked her joints into further torment.
Lyral had been badly injured herself, but the memory of her friend's lapse
into bottomless despair haunted her and spurred her to reserve all her healing
power for Kayleen. Resting after another pull, which had gained her two feet
at the price of unbearable agonies in her toes, she told herself that it did
not matter how long it took her to reach Kayleen as long as she managed to
heal her before dawn, because the healing would have more or less the same
effectiveness no matter how long her friend kept suffering.
A garbled scream from Kayleen resounded in her ears as if to answer, and she
started in disbelief at her own callousness. She moved on with a harsh gasp,
spurred by guilt, and finally managed to get close enough to touch the wooden
base of the platform over which her friend hung in torment.
"Kayleen, I'm here. Don't cry, it's almost over."
It took her a few attempts before she managed to sit by the platform and reach
her friend's right side with her lips, letting the healing flow into the
pain-wracked body. She felt the goose bumps, and remembered how her friend had
been drenched in freezing cold salt water again. Her left arm brushed against
the nettles, severing contact as she cried briefly, but she resumed almost
immediately because she feared for her friend's life. The tortures inflicted
on Kayleen had been horrendous, and she had bled a lot in spite of the summary
staunching of her wounds by her tormentors. Her power mended her worst wounds,
the oozing burns, the wicked gashes cut in her softest flesh, but after that
Lyral realized that the worst had not been addressed yet.
The muscle and ligaments in Kayleen's joints had been torn and shredded, and
gangrene would set in soon unless constantly fought. Her power could repair
them, and this would eventually lead the dislocated bones to be reduced back
into their sockets, but not under traction. Trembling, Lyral realized that the
only way was to wriggle herself into supporting her friend's weight.
She balked at the thought of the burning agony of the nettles, an agony she
would have to inflict on her front if she wanted to use her hands to make the
most of her remaining healing power. It took her a long time to muster the
resolve for that, but the horror and pain she had glimpsed during the healing
gnawed at her conscience until she managed to.
"Kayleen, I am going to heal your joints now. You should pull yourself up, so
that I can wriggle under you and support your weight while healing them,"
"No, Lyral, don't. The nettles ...," croaked Kayleen.
"If you die, the nettles will be a pleasant refresher before the torments I
would be subjected to," spat Lyral, surprised at her own bluntness.
Kayleen did not answer, but cried under her breath in the effort of pulling
herself up again, and Lyral tried to follow through on her words. The platform
was not an obstacle, but the pain from her fingers was, and almost immediately
the burning caress of the nettles flared on her front, wrenching a scream from
her mouth not unlike those uttered during the torture sessions. Her friend
leaned on her left shoulder with a strangled cry and her left breast was
pushed into the leaves, causing her to scream and buckle and her friend's
joints to teeter as a consequence, rekindling her agonies into a bitter howl.
In spite of the agony from the nettles, in spite of the awkwardness of her
position, as she had managed to nudge her torso under her trembling friend but
not her legs, because of the weights on her crushed toes, Lyral's hands,
cuffed behind her back, sought her friend's to deliver their healing power.
Kayleen writhed and sobbed as her wounds were mended, her joints molded back
into shape, and her shredded feminine charms returned to wholeness. She had
longed for the fullness of Lyral's healing since she had been denied it, but
although it was as effective as always, her mind was heavy with dread at the
thought of facing another day of torture, although not enough to admit it.
"Lyral, your healing is a blessing. I am back into shape, you can spare
yourself now," she said, exaggerating her actual condition and managing only
partially to make her voice sound strong and confident as it used to be.
Lyral intensely wished she could believe her friend, as the sting of the
nettles was as fierce as ever, but she stubbornly kept up the restoration of
her friend until she sensed it was actually done, before rolling away with a
rasping sigh. The vises would not allow her to heal her fingers and toes, but
she could spare herself the sting of the nettles and she did.
It took her some time to realize that Kayleen, unlike before, was not pursuing
further conversation. Unsure of what this entailed, Lyral mused, "Unless I'm
mistaken, Zhorun was not there today."
"I did not notice," answered Kayleen, her voice but a whisper.
"He wasn't, but they dropped no clue about the reason. I guess it was no
surprise for them, however. I think Zhorun ordered those new restraints you
are wearing just for the occasion, so that he could carry with him the thought
of you suffering in his absence," whispered Lyral.
"Why ?" whispered Kayleen, keeping the dread off her voice as mentioning the
restraints had brought to her attention how much they hurt already, making her
almost sob at the thought of spending unknown amounts of time in their grip.
"He was not like that, in life. He was a tyrant, but had no actual interest in
cruelty, only in power. Whatever cruelty was necessary, he trusted to Grod,"
continued Lyral, deeply worried at her friend's sulkiness.
Both girls started as the familiar noise of the door being opened echoed in
the unlit room, surprised at how dawn had crept up without them noticing. A
low moan of fear and despair rumbled in Kayleen's throat.
Grod mercilessly grabbed the chains fastened to the vises crushing Lyral's
toes, dragging her away while she screamed in pain, and the Easterner set
about some preparations which Kayleen followed with dread until the Southerner
reached between her legs with his toothed blade and slowly cut first her labia
and then the rim of her vagina, lingering with the blade whenever she cried.
"Just keeping you interested, Whore Queen, while our friend from the East gets
ready. It seems that this old man will have to do the work of three men,"
While her voice still echoed in pain from the last cut, he grabbed her hips
and penetrated her vagina from behind, tearing the bleeding cuts and savoring
the bitter screams of her despair. He protracted her violation, even pulling
out occasionally, allowing the Easterner to complete his preparations.
Lyral had been tied upside down on the ladder and was now screaming her lungs
out as Grod trickled scalding water on her writhing body whenever her friend's
violation was suspended. Since the ladder had been moved to allow her a clear
view of her friend's upcoming ordeal, however, she managed to realize that
their approach had not changed in the slightest.
A large amount of coals had been lit and strewn in a blazing bed between two
platforms, about three feet high and sloping into the coals on both sides. The
Easterner reached Kayleen, still hanging in chains and sobbing harshly from
her bloody rape, let her drink from the jug, then tightened the iron collar
before letting her down and dragging her near the platform on the left.
A cylindrical metal cage lay on the platform, an assembly of circular steel
bands connected by rods as tall as her, as she found out when he pulled her
inside by her arms and secured her wrist cuffs to the last band with four
short chains, connecting them together with a fifth. Meanwhile, the Southerner
did the same with her ankle cuffs, and together they suspended her in mid air
inside the cage by short chains linking her restraints to the bands.
Although the chains were taut, she was by no means immobilized, although this
did not hinder them once they started smearing grease all over her luscious
body. She sobbed harshly, crying at the prospect of enduring fire as her
tormentor's preparations suggested, wishing her friend's healing had given her
new resolve and feeling dread clutch her stomach at the sight of the coals.
Her eyes widened when they stopped smearing her with grease and pushed the
cage down the slope, causing her to spin at sickening speed maybe once of
twice before reaching the blazing heat of the coals which seared her whole
body, hands to feet, wrenching from her a dreadful scream, whose sound was
distorted as she rolled past, but whose anguish was unmistakable.
A second scream, which included a strangled "Nooo", surged from her mouth once
her momentum waned and the cage stopped climbing the slope on the other side
and started rolling back, exposing her to the searing breath of the coals
again while she still twitched from the agony of the first pass.
The deviousness of the torment became immediately clear to her as she rolled
back and forth a few times, twitching crazily in the effort to distance
herself from the heat and screaming as the grease turned hotter on each pass,
protracting the torment by bubbling on singed skin without shielding it much
from the brunt of the heat. Her breasts and especially her nipples, which were
closer to the coals in spite of her efforts to twist them as far away as
possible, already showed the deep crimson of severe burns. At least the grease
prevented her hair from catching on fire.
Lyral, whenever Grod suspended the hellish trickle of scalding water on her
breasts, could not help but watch in horror as her friend was slowly burned
alive over the coals. Her friend's face was but a blur as she rolled back and
forth, but her screams betrayed unbounded depths of agony, dread and fear. By
targeting repeatedly what her friend feared most, they were crushing her.
Kayleen's screams increased in pitch and anguish as her speed decreased,
causing her exposure to the coals to last slightly longer on each pass, and
the grease to bubble hotter all over her body, even her face, when she failed
to jerk it away from the fiery breath of the coals. It took her several fits
of howling agony before she realized that by buckling and twisting she could
preserve some semblance of motion and spread the heat.
Her incredible endurance became her own undoing, as her muscles kept the cage
rolling back and forth, but could not bring her to rest on either platform and
she always rolled back over the coals. Slowly, as her tormentors pushed the
cage repeatedly, her singed skin started peeling here and there, forming
blisters which burst under the heat. Waves of inhuman agony wracked her body,
to the point of bending the steel rods connecting the bands together, while
her voice cracked as howls from the depths of hell tore through her throat.
Her burn-streaked face was a mask of woe, which deformed when her body
convulsed from the unrelenting torment of the bubbling grease or buckled from
the flash of utter agony of a bursting blister, pulling the chains taut before
snapping back with a demented scream. Her blonde mane shook endlessly, soaked
in sweat enough to prevent it from catching fire, while her supple body arched
and twitched, pulling at her restraints and being pulled back as the crimson
of raw flesh showed where the skin had peeled under the still fierce heat.
As exhaustion crept over her, she was still herself enough to summon the
strength to roll on her back, preserving her exposed breasts from the heat
before stopping on the coals, but the Southerner kicked the cage enough to
bring them back over the coals as a wailing scream wracked her exhausted body.
The game was repeated over and over, however, kicking her into suffering the
brunt of the heat on her nipples, until her exhaustion made it moot.
They rolled her off the coals and poured the contents of the jug in her mouth,
causing her to renew her screams as her mind cleared. But when the Easterner
pushed a small copper hook in the scorched flesh of her thigh, her screams
rose much louder, and they rose even louder when he used pliers to twist and
ply the soft metal so that the hook could not be easily dislodged.
Lyral watched in disbelief as more hooks were driven one after the other
through the raw, scorched flesh, twisted and bent with pliers and then
fastened with thin copper chains to the steel bands of the cage in spite of
her friend's pitiful cries and desperate twitches.
It took the Easterner a harrowing long time to stop pushing hooks into
Kayleen's twitching body, a protracted descent into a screaming hell whose
purpose was revealed once he deemed the hooks sufficient to hold her weight
and unfastened some of the chains from her waist, knee and elbow restraints. A
new howl of unbridled despair surged from her mouth as the hook chains tensed
under her weight and raked the hooks through her scorched flesh, although with
only a fraction of the force that would tear them off.
But the full measure of her torment was revealed when, after smearing more
grease over her and letting her sip from the jug again, the cage was pushed
down the slope while her scream of unbridled terror turned into a howl of
unparalleled pain as the shifting pull of the hooks ripped bloody gashes
through her scorched flesh while she spun in the cage.
Lyral shook frantically in her restraints, unable to withstand the onslaught
of her friend's demented howls and the sight of the wildly buckling body
ripping the hooks through the scorched flesh in a paroxysm of pain which knew
neither bounds nor respite. As she sank into hopeless anguish, unable to stop
herself from crying bitterly, her tormentors lifted the ladder and brought it
closer, undoubtedly to let her witness the full measure of her friend's pain.
But she also realized that, in their zeal, they had brought her close enough
to allow her hands a chance to touch her friend's, if she got her timing
right, as her left hand was near the point where Kayleen's cage stopped before
reversing its merciless rolling. It took her over a dozen attempts, but she
finally managed to grab her friend's fingers enough to deliver some healing.
Kayleen had been drowning in rolling waves of harrowing agony and unbridled
terror as her skin had been scorched and peeled over the coals, until fear and
fire had engulfed her mind into a neverending hell of uninterrupted torment,
whose only lapse resulted first in further agonies from the hooks and now in
unspeakable torment as they ripped back and forth through her flesh. The touch
of her friend's fingers would have been a beacon in the night of utter agony
she waded through even in ordinary circumstances, but as the soothing effect
of her healing power suffused her suffering body and caused the wounds ripped
open by the hooks and bubbling with hot grease to recede somewhat, it became
the object of a craving so desperate that only the unspeakable agonies she was
being subjected to surpassed its intensity.
Reaching her friend's fingers became the focus of the last tatters of her
resolve. When she managed to, the pain of the hooks tearing her blistered
flesh and exposing the raw, crimson muscle to the bubbling grease receded for
too brief an instant, allowing her mind to glimpse at something other than
uninterrupted, unparalleled, all-encompassing agony ... but when she failed,
the price of her strenuous efforts made itself felt horrendously as inch long
gashes lacerated her scorched flesh and the hot copper burned mercilessly the
places which could not be singed by the bubbling grease.
As her momentum diminished, it became harder and harder for her to reach her
friend's fingers, and she frantically increased her efforts to do so in spite
of the harrowing torment thus slowly wrought on her body. The copper hooks, by
now red hot, added their relentless agony to her writhing, causing her to
buckle and twitch uncontrollably in the cage, arching and screaming over the
merciless coals as she slowly rolled over them a body where most of the skin
which had not been blistered had been ripped through by the hooks.
It took Lyral a long time to progress from the elation of finally being able
to lessen her friend's suffering first hand to the realization of having again
played in their tormentor's hands, protracting beyond belief a torment which
otherwise would have had to be suspended if the victim was to remain alive.
But she could not bring herself to deny her healing as her friend's fingers
stretched strenuously to reach hers, her face contorted in a scream as hook
pairs stretched the oozing crimson flesh of her breasts over the fiery heat,
ripping a further fraction of an inch through their bloody seats.
In spite of the occasional healing, Kayleen's conditions worsened slowly as
her burns became so extensive that even the profusely bleeding gashes torn by
the hooks became secondary, as confirmed by the healing no longer addressing
them. Some hooks had actually dislodged, ripping horrid wounds through muscle
and leaving tatters of flesh which had been scorched raw by the heat, but the
atrocious burns now caused her to enjoy little respite from Lyral's power.
When the Easterner finally brought the cage to rest on the platform, a wailing
sigh of pitiful agony escaped Kayleen's lips, as the thought of having endured
even this torture allowed a glimpse of hope into her mind beyond the
neverending nightmare of burning agonies. But this hope was shattered in a
scream of unbounded despair by another copper hook being driven into her left
nipple, the first of a dozen hooks fastened to spiked weights being affixed to
the soft spots of her femininity. as if they had been spared thus far.
"Heavy hooks, great pain," announced the Easterner, his usually impenetrable
countenance revealing a kind of exhaustion while he twisted the copper hook
inside the scorched tissue of her clitoris, "Talk now. He away now".
Lyral jumped in her restraints, not believing her own ears in finding this
least likely of all allies, but soon cried in dismay as the Easterner pushed
Kayleen's cage down the slope, her tormentor still human enough to feel pity
and yet not human enough to act accordingly.
The weighted hooks raked new gashes through Kayleen's severely burnt flesh,
ripping through her nipples, her labia and her clitoris with feral cruelty
and tearing through the rim of her vagina as she spun over the coals, dragging
the weights through the ashes, rekindling the heat and sending fiery sparks
into the oozing burns and bleeding wounds covering her spinning body.
Ordinarily the hooks would have ripped free of the flesh after a few turns,
but the fine chains had been loosely wound around her limbs so that most of
the pull was actually sideways, rather than straight away, allowing the hooks
to protract the torment of her flesh long enough to become red hot, while her
voice found new depths of howling woe to recount under the echoing vaults.
Lyral managed again to impart some healing to her friend, but her efforts only
caused the most severe burns to recede before her friend rolled back over the
coals to have them renewed. Lyral realized in shuddering horror that she was
covered in blood droplets sprayed from her spinning friend's wounds, which her
healing would address only when they would worsen enough.
Kayleen's terrified mind was running in circles in the vain attempt to stem
the waves of pain which rolled over her, twitching madly to keep her nipples
away from the heat since they were now pierced by four hooks tugging in
opposite directions, which distended them increasing their exposure, or
convulsing spasmodically as the weighted hook ripping through her clitoris
became red hot and its chain scraped her scorched thighs.
It took a long time before her blood loss became worse than her burns, while
Lyral spent her power in desperation as tears streaked a path clear of blood
over her face and Kayleen's howls slowly lost any semblance of sanity. The
wounds receded then, barely enough to salvage some tatters of her friend's
nipples and clitoris, and the fact that the torturers failed to react to the
event proved to Lyral that they had counted on her healing.
The Easterner caught Kayleen's cage with his hands, holding it while Lyral
rushed to heal her friend again, eying him as if to dare him stop her. The
finally solid contact allowed her to realize the seriousness of her friend's
condition, and she let her power restore the blood losses and dress the worst
wounds and burns amidst the wheezing screams wracking her friend's body.
"Enough," cried the Southerner, dragging the ladder Lyral was fastened to
away from her friend, a smile forming on his lips as this caused a low moan
of utter despair to surge from Kayleen's panting chest. He set about removing
the hooks from her twitching body, intent on limiting the damage inflicted and
yet occasionally lapsing when losing control, such as when he started slowly
ripping off the hooks piercing her clitoris while she buckled in mad agony.
He dragged his sobbing victim to a post, lifted her by chains fastened to the
iron rings constricting the base of her breasts and cuffed her elbows and
wrists together behind her while she cried bitterly, the corners of her mouth
torn by the spider gag and her face streaked by angry burns which had been
healed only partially because worse injures had taken precedence. He fetched
a steel rod, which she recognized once he curled her pubic hair around its
barbed middle, and lifted her legs off the floor, bending them to cuff her
ankles to rings at its end and leaving her dangling by her breasts in agony.
He fastened her wrists to a ring in the floor, pulling on her arms and causing
her hips to lift as her shoulders were dragged down, then pushed a needle in
the rim of her vagina, pausing while she screamed before continuing to thread
a wire around the opening of her love channel. Once done, he lifted her by the
strands of her pubic hair spared from the coals and drove his hard member into
her vagina, savoring her scream of harrowing torment as the cuts reopened.
He cruelly tugged on the ends of the thread, tightening it whenever his member
pulled back in order to further shred her tormented love channel, and kept up
her violation, each thrust causing the bar to rip her pubic hair and rake her
burnt skin while his member tore the cuts in her vagina wider and wider.
Once sated, he kept tugging on the thread while she cried in rage and pain,
waiting until her teary gaze was focused enough to see him consume more of the
powder which rekindled male erections. In spite of the mind numbing pain she
just faced, terror gripped her at the prospect of facing another string of
rapes at the hands of a perpetrator who delighted in turning the violation of
her femininity into tortures on par with the worst devised by the other two.
Lyral burst in bitter tears as she saw that, finding herself unable to further
help her friend and knowing what lay ahead. Her mind returned to her own
predicament when the Easterner brought a thin blade to her chest and cut near
the inside of her soft, white breast, the tip scraping onto her sternum in a
flash of pain unlike any she had ever been subjected to before.
Kayleen was lowered on the floor, resting on her shoulders with her arms still
painfully stretched by the ring, and the Southerner pulled her legs wide above
her head before cuffing her ankles to rings on the floor and pushing his
flaccid member down her throat, smiling as she choked in fear and humiliation.
He then fetched a wedge fashioned from a bundle of thorn branches, used it to
scoop embers from a brazier and then pushed it down her exposed ass hole,
while her restrained form buckled and arched in unbridled agony and her
demented howls burst around his manhood. Smiling, he pulled the wedge and then
pushed it down at a slightly different angle, savoring her muffled screams and
repeatedly scraping her innards, adding more embers now and then to feel her
tongue twitch around his member in howls of wretched anguish.
After prolonging this torment, he did the same with her vagina, tugging at the
thread still lodged in her singed flesh to increase the pain when he pulled
the wedge out and the thorns raked the shreds of flesh pulled tight by the
thread. Her muffled screams rose in pitch as the embers repeatedly burned her
womb while the thorns scraped the scorched walls of her love channel raw.
As he felt his manhood harden again under the combined effect of her screams
and of the drugs, he undid her restraints, cuffed her knees and ankles
together and pulled her up by chains at her breast rings and ankles, raising
her until his member nudged her sphincter. He then pierced her nipples and
clitoris with tiny hooks and pulling on them penetrated her ass hole, causing
her to arch in agony as he had encased his member in a barbed leather harness
which renewed the scratches dug by the thorns in her scorched innards.
Lyral alternated between watching in horror the protracted violation of her
friend and enduring brief flashes of absolute agony as the Easterner cut into
her flesh, reaching for the bone while she writhed in unspeakable torment on
the ladder. In spite of what her friend was going through, she could not help
but heal herself a bit after the bites of the blade, although she tried to
save her power for the night.
Sated after violating Kayleen's ass over and over, the Southerner pulled out
his blood-stained member, laughing at the tormented sigh escaping her mouth.
The thought of being killed by too many rapes crossed her mind, and somehow
she wished that her tormentor stopped penetrating her vagina, because anal and
even oral rape, which she initially loathed, were still less harrowing than
the agonies his sick inventiveness conjured when violating her womb. Her fears
found immediate proof when he lowered her onto an upturned hacked cone,
guiding it up her scraped love channel and distending the cuts around her
vagina, drowning her howl by driving his flaccid manhood into her throat.
He reached her ankles, cuffed behind her back, and started ripping off her toe
nails with pliers, pliers he subsequently used to crush the bleeding nail beds
while her mouth screamed her unbridled agony around his member and her body
shuddered in inhuman pain. Each convulsed jerk scratched her scorched love
channel, and her eyes filled with tears each time the splinters gouged a
blister open, causing her body to be wracked by pain which burst in a muffled
howl around her tormentor's bulging manhood.
After her toes, he started ripping off her fingernails, twisting her arms
further up behind her shoulders, almost near dislocation, and panting in
ecstatic frenzy at her gurgling howls of raw agony while he pulled and twisted
her bloody fingers. Her thighs twitched spasmodically while her blood stained
the wooden wedge mercilessly ripping her vagina.
Her howls resounded unrestrained when he pulled his hardening member out of
her mouth, lifted her by her arms and cuffed her ankles to the ends of a wedge
shaped steel bar bent behind the small of her back. He wound a rope around her
neck and repeatedly adjusted its length and the chains fastened to the hooks
on her nipples and clitoris before lifting her, causing her to choke as her
air supply was cut, and sliding under her, his manhood unbelievably erect.
He released her slowly with one hand, pulling her love channel around his
member by grabbing her pubic hair with the other, smiling as she writhed down
his manhood with a scream of unbridled woe as the studded harness scraped her
innards and the hooks in her nipples and clitoris were pulled taut. When he
pulled the rope up again, her vaginal muscles clutched his member deliciously
while she gasped for the air which escaped her lungs as she howled in demented
agony, twitching from the pain of the studs raking scorched flesh.
Lyral watched her friend impaled by her own weight on his upturned member
repeatedly, unable to understand how her friend seemed to partake in the act
before she realized that the Southerner alternated between pulling her down by
her labia and pubic hair and pulling her up by the rope around her neck,
cutting off her air and causing her clutching vagina to grip the instrument of
her debasement and inflict on her innards the scraping torment of the studs.
In spite of Kayleen's bleeding, the Southerner repeatedly pulled her up and
down his erect manhood, savoring her spasmodic convulsions as pain burst from
her raked womb and ripped through her clitoris while her chest heaved in
desperate need of air after screaming her lungs out and droplets of blood
squirted from her nipples whenever she tried to breathe.
Spent, he lowered her on the floor again and dragged her, in spite of her
pitiful cries, to a bed of nettles, laying her front on the stinging leaves
and twisting her arms above her head to grind her breasts on the bed of agony
while screams poured uninterruptedly from her mouth. He bent her legs above
her back, spread wide, and then inserted a large studded hook in her ass,
pulling it to bend her back and lewdly expose her bleeding sex.
Lost amidst pain, searching for the tatters of her former pride and courage,
she found herself wishing he would go away, just go away and let her alone,
but instead his flaccid member slid into her vagina again just as his weight
renewed the agony of the nettles on her raw scorched flesh, causing her to
twitch and scream, unable to prevent herself from providing the stimulation
her tormentor needed to rekindle his arousal.
Once his member hardened again, he removed the hook and penetrated her ass,
letting the studs on the harness he wore follow up on the torment delivered by
those on the hook while she kept screaming from the grinding of her breasts on
the bed of nettles. He protracted the torment by pulling out frequently and
pushing a wedge in her love channel, so that subsequent thrusts pushed on it
compounding her torment into a nightmare of frenzied pain.
He released her at last, but by forcing the contents of the jug down her
throat made clear that more was to come. He fastened her wrists to a ring in
the floor and her knees to a chain dangling from the ceiling, by which he
pulled them up, leaving her suspended in mid air and forced to twist her waist
to reduce the pull on her shoulders. He then fastened two barbed cords to the
iron band around her waist and pulled them through her crotch before winding
them around her right shoulder and back to her ankles, forcing her to arch and
twist in mid air in an effort to reduce the pain from the barbs.
Lyral watched without understanding, sobbing at the sight of her friend's body
which she had almost managed to restore, glistening under the light of the
torches from the many burns which had not been healed fully, bleeding in the
softest feminine flesh which her tormentor had targeted mercilessly, scraped
and constricted by the harsh restraints she wore and trembling from the never
ceasing violation he enjoyed to the point of taking drugs to perpetrate them.
Tears of loathing filled Kayleen's eyes when the Southerner pushed his manhood
down her throat again, only to be soon followed by gurgling screams of torment
as he started caning her exposed soles with a barbed steel rod, obviously bent
on forcing her to grind her slit onto the barbed cords and scream her torment
around his member, the game he used to speed up the effect of the drugs.
She twitched and gurgled incessantly as the cane rained ever increasing pain
on the only part of her body which had been somewhat spared and the barbed
cords raked through the part which had been most targeted, choking on his
member whenever a scream erupted from her lungs, ever on the verge of retching
as her tongue sought a way around the loathsome intruder in her mouth.
Such became the agony inflicted on her soles, cut to bleeding ribbons by so
many slashes that she did not even want to count them, that the thought of
sucking his manhood to get him to stop flashed through her mind in a wave of
despair, although she rejected it somewhat at the thought of the triumph in
his face such a debasement of her last shreds of dignity would cause.
When at last his arousal was rekindled, he pulled out, forced her thighs open
and pulling on her labia forced his manhood in her vagina again, forcing her
to scream under the debasement she had been repeatedly subjected to and hated
most, quickly turning it to torture as her scorched love channel was scraped
again while the barbed cords raked the stretched labia.
As her profuse bleeding lubricated his penetration, he pulled out and smeared
a white powder all over his member and inside her orifice, smiling when her
cries rose bitter and desperate once he resumed her penetration and the dried
walls were flayed raw and gouged mercilessly by the iron studs.
He lowered her on the floor, then fastened her ankle cuffs to the iron bands
on her thighs and then stuffed his manhood into her mouth again, using both
hands to overcome her feeble attempts to oppose him, and enjoying immensely
how her teary eyes changed from wide eyed disbelief at his beastly lust,
through disheartened despair, to blank pools of demented agony as he hammered
a studded hook in her vagina and used it to lift her loins from the floor
while the screams from her convulsing body gurgled around his manhood.
He wound the thread still running through the shredded rim of her vagina
around a stick and used it as a tourniquet to tighten it, causing her screams
to increase as more of her weight was borne by the hook. Once her body hung
before him, he fetched a pair of pliers and started pulling savagely her
nipples and clitoris, distending them and rubbing them with the tip of the rod
used to cane her soles, now red hot and wrenching long harsh screams from her
heaving chest which licked his manhood filling her mouth deliciously.
Lyral burst in a harrowing scream of her own as the Easterner cut through her
breast flesh again, scraping on the rib near the base of her right breast
while her eyes were glued to the red hot tip rubbing her friend's love bud in
short stabs of howling torment.
"Talk now. Spare your friend more. Worse when he returns", whispered the quiet
man to the East, so softly that Lyral wondered if it was her own mind giving
way under the harrowing pain. The Easterner's eyes were maybe less cold than
they usually were, and yet he had just cut through the soft flesh of a young
innocent without hesitation. Somehow, Lyral guessed that he just wanted to put
an end to a matter which had grown weary of.
Once the Southerner felt his member harden, he pulled out and circled Kayleen
in order to penetrate her ass hole, grabbing the remains of her pubic hair to
lift her up in a vicious frenzy which let her screams flow from her now free
mouth one after the other, ignoring the bleeding caused by the cuts on her
tongue and gums left by the studs. He viciously pushed over and over, with the
precise intent of distending her sphincter to tear the cuts open some more
while she howled and twitched in demented torment.
The pain of the harrowing violation was so all consuming that it took her a
while to realize he was no longer ramming her sphincter, but harsh sobs shook
her chest once she felt the taste of syrup in her mouth. Her cuffed wrists
were brought up and fastened behind her, between her ankles, and a ringed
wedge was forced down her vagina in place of the hook, the girth of each ring
tearing it open in repeated waves of agony until he tightened the thread
around the last before lifting her off the floor, screaming madly from the
unbearable pain as the scorched shreds of her vagina bore her full weight.
The pain lasted mere moments because he let her down and started clamping the
cuts with the iron clips used to staunch bleeding wounds, tightening them with
pliers and fastening them with thin chains of different length to the wedge.
He then pierced her nipples with three fine hooks each, whose chains he left
dangling as he moved near Lyral's ladder.
The blade scraped Lyral's ribs again, as if the Easterner had wanted to try
one more time, and then the Southerner reached her, watching her with a cruel
smile which made her tremble and sob almost like the prospect of tasting the
blade of the Easterner again. But the swarthy old man only pulled on the
ladder, bringing Lyral back to where Kayleen was crying in bitter pain.
The Southerner lifted Kayleen off the ground by the chain pulling on the wedge
while her voice rose in a howl of unparalleled torment as its rings slipped
under her weight, rasping her torn innards and the rim of her vagina while the
clips pulled on the bleeding cuts as the fine chains went taut. In spite of
her convulsing jerks, however, he managed to pull on the hooks in her nipples
until he fastened them to those in Lyral's own, putting a clamp on each to
prevent the hooks from ripping through the distended flesh.
He then circled the two to grab Kayleen's hair, yank her head back and force
his member into her screaming throat, letting her down somewhat before pulling
on the chain fastened to her wedge to lift her body into another fit of agony
as the wedge tore again through her sex and the hooks tugged her bleeding
nipples while her screams burst around his spent manhood.
It took Lyral many rounds of ripping through her nipples before she realized
that most of the blood on her body was her friend's, her gaze watching in
horror as rivulets flowed down the crotch which had been horribly shredded by
the repeated tearing of the wedge. The pitiful gurgled howls surging from her
friend's mouth started hammering at the depth of her soul, where she found the
resolve to stretch her neck and reach her friend's left breast, just as her
tormentor lowered the trembling body for a moment, and impart some healing.
Lyral knew that she was playing in their tormentor's hands, but the glimpses
of her friend's crotch spurting blood as she was pulled up and down and the
rim of her vagina was savagely ripped and distended burned in her mind almost
as much as the red hot tip of the rod which he repeatedly used to burn her
friend's poor clitoris, because, she realized, she had a better view of it.
As the incredible arousal caused by the drugs managed to harden his member
again, the Southerner removed the studded leather harness and replaced it with
a leather covering, rubbed in sand, then pulled out the wedge and bent
Kayleens's loins back in order to thrust his manhood into her vagina, drooling
with lust in anticipation of the harrowing howl of agony which followed.
The sand flayed mercilessly the wounded, dry walls of her vagina, rubbing the
scorched flesh raw and seeping into the many blisters and gouges to wreak
unspeakable woe inside her womb while waves of harrowing agony wracked her
chest and burst from her torn mouth in howls of unparalleled torment.
Lyral had never witnessed so closely the rape of her friend, and managed to
deliver some healing once or twice while the Southerner protracted the
violation of her friend's womb, but her mind shrunk before the harrowing
agonies the fleeting contacts revealed. Despair, humiliation and rage coursed
through her friend's pain wracked body, washed over by waves of white hot pain
and then bubbling back to prominence as the torment waned and waxed without
interruption or mercy, not even that normally provided by exhaustion as the
drugs and the excitement of triumph lent Kayleen's violator the endurance to
protract her agony over and over beyond all boundaries of cruelty.
Hoarse from the uninterrupted screaming, Kayleen choked between bitter sobs as
the Southerner released her, letting her collapse in a heap onto her trembling
friend, her mind a single white hot nugget of pain trembling in awareness that
it was not over yet, that more was to come.
As the Southerner composed his disheveled robes, Lyral doubled her efforts to
heal her friend, fighting tears caused partly by the harsh cries of her friend
and partly by the vivid impression of her violation carried over through the
healing process. She felt ... dirty, crushed, annihilated, and well aware that
it was all a pale reflection of what her friend felt like.
Grod lowered Kayleen on the floor and removed most of the implements of agony
favored by the Southerner, but nary one of her restraints, tightening instead
her iron collar before dragging her near a device she recognized with a
strangled cry, the cross rack. He fastened her ankle cuffs and the iron bands
at the knee and hip to the lower arms of the rack, paying close attention to
the positioning of her hip joints, then cuffed her wrists and elbows together
behind her back and the wrists to a chain from the ceiling by which he pulled
her wrists up behind her back until she cried from the pain in her twisted
shoulder joints. He then cranked her thighs, wider and wider, in a split which
soon caused her harsh cries of pain.
After leaving her stretched near dislocation for a while, he procured a small
jug of milky liquid and used a small ladle to scoop some and dribble it on her
bent back. After a few seconds of dread, her face contorted in a scream of
inhuman pain as the quicklime burned her skin, causing her to convulse in
desperate jerks as the caustic trickled down her back.
She kept screaming uninterruptedly as the liquid peeled the singed skin,
flowing around the blisters left by the protracted exposure to the heat of the
coals without lingering too long. Her tormentor knew that, if allowed to form
a pool, the caustic could eat through flesh causing lethal wounds, and had
made sure that it would cause only surface burns, albeit horrid to behold and
even worse to suffer as his victim's desperate howls of torment testified.
He bid his time, adding more quicklime very sparingly whenever her screams
subsided, and inspecting her back where swaths of scorched skin had peeled,
revealing the pulsating raw flesh in the wounds while she convulsed in mad
agony, pulling desperately at her shoulder and hip joints and wracking them
into and out of dislocation in long fits of howling torment.
When her jerks subsided between wheezing screams after the protracted torture,
he brought the jug to her lips in spite of her feeble attempts to resist, a
gesture which they both knew meant worse was to come. She shuddered when he
grabbed her left breast between the jaws of a pair of pliers, distending it
until she cried in pain before dribbling the milky liquid on the tip of the
distended cone, causing her whole body to stiffen and then jerk in a spasmodic
howl of utter agony as the caustic flayed her scorched flesh.
One of her hip joints dislocated with a low thud as the strength of her jerks
grew beyond bounds alongside the pain in her breast, and the resulting anguish
compounded the latter on her distorted face, set in a raucous scream which
apparently lasted without end as new droplets of caustic dropped over her
peeled nipple, raising wisps of acrid smoke and howls of unspeakable pain.
When he switched to the other breast, her convulsions surged to new peaks of
mad agony and culminated in dislocation of her left shoulder, causing her to
shift in her restraints as her body buckled spasmodically in the attempt to
twist her breast away from the jaws which held it under the trickle of milky
liquid which simmered over the distended cone of feminine flesh.
Only after repeatedly tormenting her breasts, to the point of eating most of
the scorched skin away, did he bring the jug to her lips again, pouring the
contents down her throat while she sputtered and coughed, wracked by agonies
which flared whenever her attempts to take a deep breath pulled on the
seething flesh of her once proud mounds.
Obviously bent on dislocating her other limbs, her tormentor cranked the rack
some more and then dribbled quicklime along her distended legs, taking care to
let the droplets flow along the curve while she stiffened in a scream of utter
anguish before rattling the rack with spasmodic convulsions of hopeless pain.
Skin and flesh bubbled and simmered while her voice waxed and waned in howls
of desperate torment, her mind lost in mazes of unceasing woe and clinging to
the last strands of sanity as her only hope surged in tatters from her mouth
among screams of unspeakable agony.
"Lyral ... please! Lyral ...
In spite of his efforts in prolonging her agony, however, he failed to
dislocate her other limbs. He tried dribbling quicklime on her arms, on her
bleeding nail beds, he tried with letting if flow from the small of her back
down firm buttocks until they literally broiled and smoked while her
convulsions shook the rack's frame, but her exhausted screams started waning,
and he still had not managed to achieve his intent, so he poured some
quicklime in a bowl which he suspended just under her crotch.
He then climbed on the rack and used his feet to push onto her loins, until
her feminine flesh contacted the caustic and she jerked in agony, with such
strength that he almost fell down. But he held on, pushing her onto the liquid
which foamed around her femininity and splashed the inside of her thighs while
she howled in absolute agony and arched spasmodically, twisting her thighs and
legs and wracking them repeatedly until she dislocated her other hip with a
low popping sound, the ordinarily devastating pain barely registering before
the agonies consuming her tender femininity in waves of horrid torment.
The removal of the bowl brought her some respite, although she kept screaming
in wheezing fits of hopeless anguish interspersed by sputtering as he brought
the jug to her lips again, but the respite ended when he brought the bowl near
her left breast. The corners of her mouth almost tore as the scream which rose
from her chest surged through, as if her mouth could not stretch wide enough,
and her muscles stiffened in agony before snapping in spasmodic jerks as she
tried desperately to pull her broiling flesh from the caustic liquid.
He kept chasing her heaving chest and splashing her breast with the quicklime,
sometimes finding some on his heavy leather gloves, keeping her nipple bathed
in the caustic and simmering relentlessly in a bloody foam until her jerks
managed to pull her shoulder out of its seat with a sickly thud, leaving her
hanging from her dislocated arms and wracked by waves of bitter pain as her
flesh broiled and simmered in unspeakable agonies which burst from her mouth in
screeching howls of pain and despair, interspersed by almost inaudible calls
"Lyral ... help ... me!"
She sobbed bitterly even once he started unfastening her restraints, because
the simple touch of his hands was agony on her consumed flesh, and her hopes
were shattered once he made her drink from the jug and fastened her ankle
cuffs to the iron bands at her hips. A scream of raw despair surged from her
as he fastened her wrists between her ankles, behind her back, forcing her to
arch painfully, and then tightened iron clips on her burned labia and around
the scorched rim of her vagina which he then used to pull her off the ground.
Lost in a maze of harrowing pain, her head flailing as unrelenting agonies
radiated from her feminine flesh, the screams surging from her mouth stopped
once she saw between tears a pale face under hers, a face she took a while to
recognize as her friend's.
"Lyral, oh thanks! Help me, please, I'm burning ..."
It took a while for Kayleen to register the look of horror on Lyral's face as
it jerked away under hers, for a reason which became immediately apparent as
the burning bite of quicklime landed on the soft undersides of her breasts,
flowing around her mounds in simmering rivulets and broiling over her nipples,
trickling droplets of foaming caustic mixed with blood where her friend's face
had been, mere moments before a wave of unspeakable agony erased everything
from her mind but the all encompassing agony of her peeling flesh.
As she jerked in howling pain, rattling mercilessly her dislocated joints, her
tormentor kept dribbling droplets of quicklime on her raw flesh, exercising
some restraint only in what flowed down to her face which he did not want to
burn too much. Bleeding tears started ripping her labia and the rim of her
love channel as her weight and her spasmodic jerks wracked them repeatedly.
It took Lyral a long time to muster the courage to face the droplets of
caustic, but the harrowing screams of her friend's agonies gnawed at her until
she put caution aside and arched, stretching herself until her lips reached
her friend's forehead to deliver a sorely needed round of healing.
Satisfied that the torment could be protracted, Grod kept dribbling caustic
all over Kayleen's jerking form, pausing to wait for the full effect when he
let it flow down her long and once shapely legs, watching it broil the flesh
and form bloody rivulets of foam which dripped onto her chest whenever her
jerks brought her head almost at waist height. It was at those times that he
let some trickle around her sphincter, so that she arched back in reaction and
swung almost full circle, distending herself in mad agony and allowing her
friend a chance to heal her a bit.
As her torment was mercilessly prolonged, variants of pain she had never
thought of wracked her hanging body into new depths of this hell she had been
thrown into. White hot agonies surged from her chest and limbs whenever her
flesh was distended by her jerks, as the foaming residues of caustic found new
unmarred flesh to consume. Searing agony washed over her face when it was
crossed by rivulets of the milky liquid. The sensitive skin under her soles
simmered and curled while her legs twitched in agony, wracking her hip joints
in waves of harrowing torment. Her nipples burned in relentless pain, turned
into simmering stubs of broiled flesh which oozed bloody foam under the
application of more caustic whenever Lyral's healing partly restored them.
A brief pause was allowed when she was offered the jug again, from which she
drank in long gulps, almost out of her mind in pain and calling repeatedly her
friend between coughs. But her voice exploded in a howl which had seen few
equals when he dribbled some quicklime on her crotch, catching her clitoris
with a well aimed drop just after she stiffened in unspeakable agony and an
instant before she burst in a fit of convulsed jerks which made it extremely
difficult for Lyral to reach her flailing head.
A fire worse than the hot irons burned her feminine flesh, simmering all over
the distended skin and broiling it slowly and mercilessly while her own weight
and the jerks induced by the all consuming pain ripped bleeding gashes in the
flapping tatters of her labia and the shredded entrance of her womb.
Once, maybe twice, the soothing touch of Lyral's healing clamped the blazing
fires of her agony, but soon the caustic was brought onto her nipples again,
and as she descended the pits of hell in howling despair she realized that her
tormentor was observing what parts of her martyred flesh showed signs of
healing to target them with further drops of the hellish liquid, watching them
smolder and broil while she jerked her limbs and orifices into further agonies.
Just as her convulsed jerks waned into spasmodic twitches, just as she started
thinking that she had defied them once more, the screech of a hateful voice
from beyond the grave resonated in the room.
"Continue her interrogation, Grod. Until she realizes how foolish it is to
oppose me, she'll have to bear the consequences of her folly, just as your
ilk," he whispered, turning to Lyral, "faced those of theirs this morning,
and are now being brought here for questioning,"
The defining limit of Kayleen's agony became thus Lyral's ability to heal the
repeated abuse being wrought on her tender feminine flesh, but her tormentor
started interspersing it with occasional dribbling over her twitching muscles,
meant to wrack her dislocated joints into frenzies of trembling agony while
her nipples and clitoris returned to some semblance of their former selves
after being almost broiled away by the merciless application of quicklime
while she kept asking for her friend's help between wheezing screams.
"Lyral ... heaven's sake ..."
Her face burned by droplets of quicklime and streaked with tears, Lyral fought
the torments wracking her friend with a desperate strength fueled by the
awareness of being both an instrument of her agonies and the only remaining
anchor of her assaulted resolve. Foregoing any care of herself, she found
reserves of healing power she had not known existed, but slowly consumed them
one by one until only despair remained, until her kiss to her friend delivered
her desperate sorrow but no respite.
Always alert, Grod suspended the dribbling of quicklime on his screaming
victim shortly thereafter. For a moment, it looked like the silent corpse
was considering ordering him otherwise, but the words which followed were a
surprise for everybody.
"Grod and Chang, take the Priestess to the prison pits, and make an example of
her before interrogating her sisters - I want answers from them by tomorrow
morning. Meanwhile, I'll question her friend myself. Make sure she is
unmarred and ready to resume tomorrow morning, however," whispered Zhorun.
Kayleen's screech of bitter despair echoed under the vaults of the chamber and
flared through Lyral's soul, spurring her to distend in a last desperate kiss
so bent on delivering any measure of healing that both girls snapped like rag
dolls while Kayleen's horrid burns visibly receded and Lyral passed out after
expending her last ounces of energy. When the two tormentors overcame their
surprise, she did not react as they dragged her away.
When the Southerner lowered her just enough to let her shoulders rest on the
floor, Kayleen tried to stop herself from crying bitterly as the friend who
had just spent her remaining energies to restore some of her health was being
dragged away, leaving her in the hands of the most sadistic of her tormentors
and of the rotting corpse of the tyrant she had deposed, bent on exacting the
most horrible revenge on her, or worse, if Lyral's hunches were correct.
There would be no respite tonight, no soothing caress or embrace in spite of
cruel restraints they always managed to circumvent. A scream of harrowing pain
surged from her mouth when the Southerner penetrated her ass with his hard
member sheathed in the same studded leather harness meant to scrape her
innards raw which he had been using in the morning, while Zhorun watched
intently every contortion of her visage, the twitching of her shoulders in her
swollen joints and the bleeding gashes ripped the hooks in her labia as she
jerked under her tormentor's frenzied thrusts.
"Harder! Make her scream!" screeched the corpse, causing the Southerner to
redouble his efforts with a smile, as if her pitiful, wheezing screams could
not be heard over and again under the vaults of the torture chamber.
But Zhorun craved for more, after being unable to relish in her agonies for
hours, and his voice rose menacingly
"If you cannot punish her adequately, I'll do it myself! Get out of my way!"
The Southerner, still panting and thrusting, jumped off mere moments before
blue streaks of lightning surged from Zhorun's gnarled hands, crackling over
Kayleen's restrained body. Stuttering screams of unabashed torment surged from
her mouth as her muscles contracted spasmodically and pain blasted from her
dislocated joints, while droplets of blood sprayed from the bleeding gashes in
her crotch as her jerks rattled the chains she hung from.
After carrying Lyral's chained body for a some time, Grod and Chang dropped
her on the floor of a poorly lit hall. As she had not really passed out, but
was just utterly exhausted by her last ditch effort to heal her friend, Lyral
had been forced to listen to the screams resounding in the torture chamber
until they had waned in the maze of corridors. The sounds of agony which ruled
this underground kingdom of pain soon reached her ears again, however, as
three sides of this hall consisted of cells occupied by disheveled and chained
Priestesses, their white robes in tatters, moaning and weeping.
The hall was small and not equipped for interrogation, a fact which caused
Grod to shake his head and leave. Two guards stood there, and their eyes ogled
Lyral's full breasts and creamy thighs with unmistakable lust. She lay there,
too exhausted to do anything but breathe, unable to answer the whispers from
those of her sisters who had not yet succumbed to despair. When Grod returned,
silence descended on the hall at the sight of the implements he carried, but
she could not even open her eyes yet.
A sudden agony burst in her shoulders once Grod started pulling her up by her
arms, twisting them in their sockets until she hung from a chain wound around
a pulley fastened to a beam in the ceiling, and almost immediately her scream
echoed in the small hall and on the scared visage of the onlooking prisoners.
With a desperate scream, Kayleen twitched spasmodically as the Southerner
poured salt water on her hanging form. Coils of barbed cord had been wound
around her limbs and chest, tightly enough to let them scrape the scorched and
broiled skin if she moved. And the subsequent onslaught of crackling blue
lightning from Zhorun's fingers caused her to arch and buckle, cutting long
bleeding gashes in the scorched skin and wrenching long howls of bitter
torment from her sore throat as her jerks wracked her dislocated joints.
The salt water mixed with her tears while he lowered her shoulders on the
floor to reduce the tear on her labia, because he kept close watch on the
hooks ripping through them and wanted to protract the torment of her
femininity. Some needles had been driven through the soft flesh around her
sphincter and the entrance of her love channel, to keep the shreds of her
flesh from being ripped away too quickly but also to carry the lightning where
it could cause the worst pain, especially once doused in salt water.
When Zhorun's lightning paused, the Southerner pulled her up again, watching
her face contort in agony as blood flowed from the gashes in her tender flesh
and salt seeped in the open wounds. He wished he had Grod's experience with
quicklime, but in its wake he would make do with a rasp, and after a glance at
the silent corpse, scraped it against her clitoris to see her dance in
unbridled agony while more lightning magic crackled around her nipples.
Lyral's own tears streaked her face as she hung from her twisted arms, moaning
and crying while Grod pulled her ankles up behind her to expose the soles. His
intent became obvious when he picked up a mean, braided whip and after testing
it a few times brought it down on her soles, causing her to arch in raw agony
as a bitter scream surged from her mouth. A wave of horror swept the faces
glued behind the bars, wide eyed before the agony of a sister many of them had
recognized and trembling at the prospect of facing the same soon.
Suddenly, after half a dozen strikes, a blinding flash of orange light burst
from one of the cells, engulfing the two armored guards in a shroud of fire
which also set some furniture ablaze. Some unknown force crushed the bars of a
cell outwards before a young Priestess, with lush red hair and flaring green
eyes. She rushed towards Lyral's hanging form, hurling arrows of orange fire
towards the two torturers. Chang narrowly escaped her fury by hiding behind a
pillar, but Grod was flung backwards by the impact of the orange flames.
With superhuman speed, the red haired Priestess reached Lyral's hanging form
and embraced her, softly whispering the words of a spell, a transportation
spell which caused both to fade away just as Lyral recognized her.
"Shandra", she whispered with a smile.
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