The room was dark and damp. Rows of bricked cells were on either side. Mold grew on the walls and only a few candles lit the musky room. The beasts dragged Sarain into a den at the end of a hall, and there, there was an old oak torture chair. The creatures dropped the beaten Sarain into the chair, and one held her still as the other clamped her arms in.
Sarain knew she needed to fight, but could barely lift her head - she had lost a lot of blood. Still she managed to muster up and say, “What are you doing with me?”
“We need to make sure you won’t fight when the master comes in,” one of the demons said, surprisingly insightful. Sarain had expected to be ignored.
They finished clamping her in, and then immediately positioned themselves to the back of the room, behind her. Sarain waited, propped up in the chair. The den was better lit than anywhere else in this little torture chamber. It was also damp, and smelled of urine; Sarain was pretty sure it was from previous occupants of the chair. She looked up and her eyes focused on something she found strange to be in these mucky catacombs - it was a television screen. She wasn’t sure how it was powered but it looked clean and new.
This is not promising, Sarain thought to herself. She heard a door opened behind her, and the sounds of thumping made by heavy feet followed.
“Leave us,” a deep voice said from behind her, which was followed by retreating footsteps and a door closing.
The heavy footsteps began again, and Sarain could see a large shadow approaching on the wall. After a moment the huge gray demon stepped around and in front of her. The master - finally Sarain was able to get a good look at his face, though things were still somewhat blurry. His pointed ears looked lengthy from front view, his jaws were elongated, his brow bone protruded, and his eyes were and glowed a constant yellow, but aside from all these hideous disfigurations, the rest of his facial features were completely human. Sarain realized that he wasn’t an actual demon, he was a vil sang, or at least one that had to have been made directly from a full blooded demon, causing the virus to be stronger and run more rapidly through his veins; this was the result of what demon blood could do with you after time. He had to be quite old to have grown so massive, and to have earned the respect and devotion of so many full blooded demons.
Sarain watched and waited uncomfortably as this master demon stared down at her with his fiery yellow eyes. He studied her for some time; her physique, but mostly her face. She started to grow uneasy with the way he looked at her, questioning herself why she was there, as she avoided his gaze.
“Look at me,” he demanded vigorously, but when Sarain didn’t comply, he grabbed her by the chin with his clawed hand, and forced her head up until her eyes met his. After a moment, he let go of her, and said, “So you are the one who has been causing me trouble. You have been killing my men for a while now, haven’t you?”
“They were killing mine,” Sarain muttered out.
The beast looked at her and laughed to her astonishment. His laugh sounded like a deep rumble, almost a roar. Sarain didn’t find what she said amusing. But then the beast stopped laughing and said, “You know you are all just cattle. You really shouldn’t take offense.”
“Weren’t you cattle at one time?” Sarain spoke looking up at him.
“Maybe so, but I evolved from that long ago, and now even the shepherds bow down to me,” he stated with conceit, then added, “And soon they will bow to you.”
“What?” Sarain said with alarm.
“You have proven yourself a worthy opponent, but I would rather have you on my side, and my army still needs a general,” the master demon preached, sending shockwaves to Sarain’s core.
“No,” she yelled and then desperately asked, “Why not Winston, doesn’t he already run your club, and do your dirty work? Why not make him your general?”
“Winston is a loyal servant, and I admit, with that charm of his he can lure in anyone and pull off just about anything I ask him to. But he simply lacks the skill and passion of a great warrior, he is too busy with those cattle whores of his to really see the greater picture,” the beast explained to her.
Sarain sighed as her stomach churned, “So I’m to become a vil sang?” She asked him already knowing the answer.
“Yes, but you will be so much more. A regular vil sang is just a man infected with a virus, but one of mine is someone who has been conditioned and pushed to the brink of insanity, and once that is achieved then they are turned. And this allows the demon blood to run its course more rapidly, so that the subject can reach its full capabilities,” the master explained with a gleam in his already burning eyes.
“And an army of these monsters is your great dream?” Sarain spoke with a hint of sarcasm.
“Ruling over and openly of mankind is my dream, the army is just a tool for achieving that goal,” he said with annoyance in his voice.
“So then you plan to drive me crazy ‘til I call you master?” Sarain said with resentment.
“You will call me Sephor, with those who will also sit with me at my table,” he said to her in almost a loving manner.
“You would have to drive me crazy to get me to willingly sit with you, Sephor,” Sarain stated mockingly.
Sephor glared at her, displeased, and looked as though he was ready to hit her, but then stopped.
“Not able to hit a woman?” Sarain asked disdainfully.
The massive beast looked down at her. Though he was frightening, Sarain had lost the reason to be frightened. What more could he do to her that would be worse than her greatest fear of becoming a demon?
Sephor leaned down to Sarain’s ear, and said in the lowest tone that his bass-y voice could go, “What would be the point of hitting you before you’re about to be broken; what my servants will do to you will be far much worse.”
He raised back up, and gave her one last glance before departing from the room. The other demons soon returned, and one of them carried a strange head device in his claws. They forced Sarain into the odd device and she learned that it was for keeping her eyes open and her head straight. The demons switched on the television set, and images of beasts torturing people in that very room came on the screen. Sick methods of torment were being afflicted on some people, while others were being killed and eaten; it seemed that not everyone was a candidate for transformation. Sephor wanted the weaker to be weeded out, and only the stronger to remain as his soldiers. The unwanted ones were consumed as slowly as possible and often in front of others who were good candidates. A lot of these tortures were done in groups, but Sarain hadn’t seen any others when she had been brought in - she would be all alone.
Men, women, and even a few children played out on this tape; all showing horrible things to soon come to Sarain. She watched, but while she was disgusted, it hadn’t been the first time she had seen something of this nature. The images on the screen could not match what she saw and smelled in person the night of her clan’s raid; it having been done to her friends and family also made it far much worse.
A familiar face came on the screen; Nate. He was with a group and was made to watch a man being eaten. The look on Nate’s face was one of pure torment and misery; a beast had physically held him in place just inches away from the man and forced his eyes to watch. Nate had screamed and cried until his eyes ultimately glazed over and a blank expression came over his face, and then he was silent. Now Sarain understood why, even as a vil sang, Nate had been so unresponsive to her that night.
Hours went by; hours of having to watch one sick mutilation after another; suffering face after suffering face; Blood, guts, and gore. Until finally the tape neared its end, then a glitch in the tape, and Kit popped on the screen, strapped to the same chair, forced to watch the same tape of senseless gore, forced to watch every minute of his brother’s mental demise. Kit was crying, and trying to scream through a gag in his mouth. This had to have been filmed just hours earlier. Sarain wondered if she had been right nearby when it happened; too busy trying to find Sephor. Her eyes welled up as she watched Kit struggle to try and break free. She had failed him, and now Kit too was seemingly doomed to the same fate. Sarain watched intently to see what Kit’s outcome would be, had he been deemed strong enough to be turned or was he weeded out, but the tape went black with him still just watching the screen.
Sarain’s heart raced as she screamed in a panic, “What did you do to him?