The pain continued for hours, and Lucius fainted. An unknown time passed before waking up outside, tied again to the pole near the shaman's house.
Jumping up, he flinched—a reaction from the earlier torture. The pain was still alive in his mind as he let out a groan of agony, feeling the scars on his chest.
The wounds were covered in some kind of powder that made the bleeding stop, leaving crusts of dried blood in the shapes of the lines the shaman had drawn. They were slowly healing, but without a doubt, they would leave scars.
Taking a deep breath, Lucius knew he could not stay there. He had to find a way to escape. Slowly, he moved to make sure no one was checking on him and tried to find a way to get out of the chains, but nothing worked.
Getting up and inspecting the pole he was tied to, he pushed and shook it with all his strength, but it remained as stable as a mountain. Sitting down, panting, he had a look of desolation before thinking hard about the options he had.
