The stench of something burning filled the room. Thick black smoke drifted through the air as a figure stepped forward, his entire body blackened and scarred, skin peeling away to reveal raw layers beneath.
Its thick smoke seemed to smother his burnt lungs, overwhelming what was left of his senses with the stench of his burnt flesh.
He smiled indifferently, the pain was fleeting compared to his defiant spirit.
"Is this what I must endure? The punishment for all my sins before the trial ends. Is that it?"
This was a simple question, one he may not receive an answer to.
He let out a low chuckle, shoulders shaking despite the way charred flesh clung to his bones.
"The pain of burning is nothing. I experience it every day. Perhaps an immolating hell can break the mind, but this pain is one I inflict upon myself. I have grown used to fire."
The Archivist did not show emotion, though something in his posture hinted at faint, reluctant respect. Still, he shook his head.
