High Valor

The Martyr's Dream (Foy)

Every night, since I was a girl, I dream the same.

I lie on my back, stretched across a chariot wheel, looking up into the fiery eyes of Dhaemnhuil the Raging – a great, beastly figure. From all sides, I see the Fane Lords and their Priests – silently, frantically, whispering. From the whispers, I hear one rise above them all, saying, “Will you sacrifice?” I reply “yes” and that moment, Dhaemnhuil tightens the straps, pulling my limbs tighter. I feel my cartilage pop, but against the pain I remain silent. My eyes are locked on my torturer, and his determination is evident. The whispers grow louder, and I hear once more above them, “When the time comes, will you make this sacrifice for them all?” I look around, even at the Fane, and answer, “yes” as the straps pull ever tighter and I feel my limbs tear from me…

Every night I dream the same. Every time I wake, my eye is wet. High Lord, whatever you ask, I beg I’m worthy.

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