Chapter 32

The days in the deep cells blurred together, marked only by the changing of guards and the rhythmic pulse of magma behind crystal walls. Boren's cell was larger than most - a final mockery of his general's status. Carved directly into the volcanic rock, it held a stone bed long enough for his height, a basic washbasin, and enough space to pace ten steps in any direction. Not that he bothered counting anymore.

The eternal crimson glow from the magma streams never failed to remind him of Balor's last words. Four months had passed, or perhaps five - time moved strangely in the mountain's depths. The heat was constant, seeping through the rock, making his skin glisten with permanent sweat despite the cell's surprisingly good ventilation.