The body of the burly man trembled. He had always been broad, muscular, intimidating, a man others feared when he entered a room.
But now, covered in the hot, sticky remains of his companions, he felt smaller than he had ever felt in his life.
The blood clung to his skin, burning. Every drop that slid down his neck or smeared across his chest reminded him of what he had just seen: men screaming, bodies tearing open, steam hissing from within them as though they'd been cooked alive.
His companions, his so-called allies, gone. And he knew what that meant.
He was next.
'Gods...no. Please. I can't...I can't end up like that. Not like that.'
His thoughts raced chaotically, every word strangled by panic.
'It's too much. Too hot. I can still feel it, their blood on me. It's scalding...like it's searing into my flesh. Every drop feels like a warning. My turn is coming...'
