Reverse Scale: Dylan

Red.

Everything was red in Diana’s eyes.

From the dried blood splattered around the floor and walls nearest to Diana’s hiding spot just a little beyond the corner to the center of the vast room where fresh crimson ink oozed like a stream – everything was red. The hue of flame illuminated the room. With each press of the molten iron onto the person’s back or limbs, the stale air of the room vibrated.

The rattling of the enchanted chains and the screams of that person blended into a horrifying symphony.

At the podium, which was the center of the illumination, a woman was chained.

Though naked, her skin could not be seen from the open wounds and dried blood that littered her petite body. From her neck to her wrists, then to her ankles, the woman with frizzy hair was limped. She looked almost dead.

Three… Nine… Twelve.

There were twelve warlocks, each of them sharing one look – the curled lips of the devil.

Two warlocks were making sure that the fire kept burning. Three warlocks took turn