Damien groaned and his eyes fluttered open. Everything hurt. What had happened and how did he end up here, wherever here was? His shoulders especially were screaming at him, probably because his arms were above his head. When he tried to move he found he was stuck. He craned his neck and found his wrists were bound by some sort of blue crystal. Everywhere he looked the shiny stuff covered everything. Small flickers of energy appeared below and then ran through the crystal accompanied by crackles and sizzles. It almost sounded like someone was frying bacon at too high a temperature.

At least his feet were flat on the ground so he wasn’t hanging by his wrists. An electric ozone smell filled the air, like after a lightning strike. It was mingled with something else, something unnatural.

It’s a mixture of sulfur and brimstone. There’s an open hell gate around here somewhere.

He turned to the right. Crystal completely covered his hand and Lizzy jutted out above the binding. The blade didn’t look damaged, but he couldn’t let go.

“You okay?”

Fine, but my power is being drained as fast as I generate it.

Damien turned his focus inward and found he was in the same state. His soul force along with Lizzy’s rushed out of him at a frightening pace, faster than when that witch attacked him with the urn. The battle with Morana all came back to him, including Connor’s last-second arrival. That explained how he ended up here, but not where he was.

He leaned as far forward as the restraints allowed and looked both ways. A curving path led up and away to the left. To the right there was another person connected to the crystal. He squinted and tried to focus in the unsteady light. It looked like…

“Imogen?” It was her, but she’d seen better days. She slumped in her restraints, eyes closed and unresponsive. He could just make out the faint rise and fall of her breast. How many more of his fellow sorcerers were shackled to this place?

Damien straightened back up. He couldn’t help her now. He needed to do something for himself, and getting out of these restraints would be an excellent start. He tugged on his left hand. There was a little play between his wrist and the shackle, but not much. The other hand was so totally bound he had no hope of getting it loose.

“Can you get a sense of where we are?”

With my power being drained I’m even more limited in my perceptions.

“Swell. Do you have any suggestions?”

I’m sorry, Damien. We appear thoroughly captured. I don’t see any options beyond outside assistance.

They’d probably be dead before help arrived, if it ever did. No, they were on their own.

He twisted his wrist back and forth. If he could gash it the blood might provide lubricant enough to get him out. He winced when he found a spur sharp enough to draw blood. It wasn’t a deep cut, but the warm liquid ran down his arm in enough volume to make things slick.

He pulled and twisted, grimacing through the pain. In truth, the additional discomfort was only a tiny bit worse than the constant pain that filled every inch of him. It didn’t seem like it could get much worse.

Damien shouldn’t have thought that. A moment later an electric burst of pain ran through him. Every muscle clenched, turning his body into a giant cramp. His vision dimmed for a moment, but he fought through it and the pain let up.

What in the hell was that? And more importantly, would it happen again?