TERROR SHOT THROUGH Zi Yin as he awoke, bound to a bed with his arms and legs secured.
What the hell? He struggled against the restraints, worries fueling his thrashing. Incense drafted in ringlets from the table and Zi Yin's pupils shrunk as he realized it was a sleep paralysis one. Meant to induce sleep and keep the captives lucid. Zi Yin fought against it, trying not to breathe too deeply as the drug made his body slugging and his limbs weighted.
He needed to get the fuck out of here.
The effects of the drug Zhan Sheng had given him swirled through his system, making his head spin and his stomach churn with nausea. He looked around the dim room, taking in the shadowy figures lurking in the corners, wondering where he was. This didn't seem like any sect he was familiar with, and Zi Yin figured he must have been brought back to the Burning Fire sect.
Where it all began.
