My head was splitting as I slid across the floor reaching for the table. Though it was ancient and had the blood of many spilled on it, it was sturdy. My own blood was adding to the crusty brown surface and streaming down the table side while my arms were struggling to hold on and hold me up.

My body was bruised but my feet were past mangled. Every nail had been torn away and my toes were bent in directions they should never have gone. What was thick leathery callus was worn to patches of raw pink skin, similar to fresh fish flesh.

When I finally pulled my self enough onto the table to see, there was a horrible display of the fate of those who are killed here. But it had a message, there is not much time.

Human bones polished like ivory reflected the sunlight and held an hourglass full of the freshly spilt blood. Bit by bit the victims elixirs coagulated and dropped into the bottom dish. As each piece landed on the others they would bounce and squelch echoing their persons screams the night before.