Gar dashed to the pillar. He held his breath. He strained his ears.

“Your rebellion has ended,” the Inquisitor’s raspy voice echoed the dark hall.

Gar slunk to the next pillar. He felt his blade quiver, thirsting for blood. Metal dragging on stone pierced his ears.

“Strike!” taunted the Inquisitor.

A heavy thump to his left. Gar held breath again. The thumping echoed; the Inquisitor was near. Gar slipped from the pillar and struck, blade wide, hitting stone. Roar from behind, he leapt forward, whistling of air catching his hair, and the pillar crumbled. Scrambling forward into the dark, behind another pillar, holding breath again.

“Your nerves betray you. I see now it’s in your blood. Betrayal is what you did your brother. Run and hide, judgment will come.”

Gar betrays no one, not even his brother. He bit his lips, fiery wrath burning within. Smashing of metal on stone again, a pillar crumbled. He crept behind the Inquisitor’s eyes. The time to strike was soon. Taunt again, and the strike comes. It did. Gar lunged, thrusting hard, aiming the pits. His blade sunk, he grinned, twisting his blade, gazing forward. Pallid eyes gazed back, spiked gauntlets from the corner of his eyes and into his cheeks. Gar roared, felt his legs become brittle, then he was on the ground staring at a ball of spike, blood dripping.

“Judgment!”

The flail whipped back and crashed.