Emery woke slowly. Wherever he was, it was dark. The air smelled musty and he could hear the soft sound of water dripping from his left. As he tried to sit up, his hand landed in a puddle and he shook it, like a cat, trying to get the water off.

“Hello?” he called softly. He closed his eyes as his senses were assaulted by the trauma the place had seen. Moaning softly, Emery lay back on the ground.

People had been tortured here – both physically and emotionally. People had lost their lives and their sanities. He tried to focus his mind, so he could draw back from what his senses were telling him. However the assault was too strong and, under the psychic burden, he lost consciousness again. The scene would repeat itself several times before his captors were satisfied that he was under their control.