Dripping. Trickling. Each sound like that echoed through the endless hellfire.

     Xisuthros's head laid against the cold, damp, stone prison. Their hands shook. Their body trembled with every breath.

       In. Pain. Out. Pain. In. Pain. Out. Pain.

       It was the same cycle all over again.

       Their body ached with each movement.

      Poison practically courses through their veins.

      What crime had they been locked in there for? None. Absolutely none.

       Xisuthros weakly ran a finger across the ground, casting small grains of rock aside.

       All they had wished to do was save the humans… Save them from their internal damnation. Save the humans from what their brother—-who prided himself in being a bloodthirsty maniac—-Irzinog, wanted to condemn them to.

      Xisuthros exhaled, the sound coming from their lungs rattling and echoing, deathly. They scrunched up their nose as they made a pitiful sound.

      Their head pounded and ached.

     Xisuthros inhaled, their chest burning.

      Xisuthros's eyes remained closed as they tried to steady their breathing pattern.

       In. Two minutes. Out. Over a minute played out without another breath in.

         This breathing pattern was at least quite a bit better than the immortal's breathing pattern in the last few days—-sometimes, they wouldn't breathe for more than an hour.

     It's not like they really needed to breathe anyway.

    Breathing was a mortal function.

     And Xisuthros?

     They were far from mortal—-perhaps the farthest one could get from mortality.

      Xuviphas was vast—-never ending; but, yet, Xisuthros had been cramped into the darkest corner of the realm.

      Xisuthros rolled their head back and forth upon their shoulders. 

       Crack!, their neck seemed to echo.

       Finally, they thought. At last.

      The next thought on Xisuthros's mind was to open their eyes.

        For the average person, it would be each. One quick motion. In seconds, the typical person could have it done—-their eyelids lifted and their eyes gazing at the world before them.

       But, alas, Xisuthros wasn't normal.

        They were a celestial deity, who's existence a mortal's mind couldn't comprehend—-won't dare comprehend in fear that their mind might implode, knowing that the world wasn't just as they were raised to think.

      The world was littered with monsters—-not the human kind, but the dark, creepy, eery, blood chilling kind. The vampire kind. The demon kind. The siren kind.

    Xisuthros inhaled. Here goes nothing, they thought to themselves—-that thought seemed to echo back and forth in their mind.

       Straining, Xisuthros willed themselves to open their eyes—-they didn't stay open for very long.

         Flutter.

        The world felt cold around them.

        Flutter.

       The thought of moving from that position caused Xisuthros terrible pain.

        Flutter.

        Irzinog sure does get his sick kicks from seeing me suffer, huh?, Xisuthros's mind echoed.

        Flutter.

        The memory of Irzinog and what he had done taunted Xisuthros.

        Bastard, their mind internally cursed.

        Finally—-at last—-Xisuthros's eyes were open; their bright, red embers for irises exposed to the world around them.

      Xisuthros let their gaze cruise across the room, careful to not let their head even move the slightest bit.

      The dripping from the unknown source had long since stopped.

       The silence was deafening.

       The only sound that reverberated in the vast, endless dungeon-like dwelling was Xisuthros's own shallow breathing.

        Now, Xisuthros began. Time to see if I can still move from this wretched position.

        Xisuthros inhaled deeply before moving their hand the slightest bit—-pain radiated throughout their arm.

          Xisuthros groaned. Fun.

         They took another breath in.

       Everything will hurt so much more when Irzinog pays his daily visit, Xisuthros thought, mentally shuddering at the idea of seeing their brother again.

       They closed their eyes for a moment before opening them again—-inhaling as they did.

       Slowly, Xisuthros craned their neck over to the side, allowing their head to swivel and see more in the room that they couldn't see prior. Xisuthros winced at the motion; every one of their muscles cried out in pain.

      Xisuthros let their vermilion eyes glide down from the ceiling, the wall, and to the ground.

       Bingo, they thought. The annoying dripping sounds did leave something behind, after all.

        Quite a few feet away from Xisuthros—-who was still lying, slumped over and shallowly breathing—-inside the cracks between the stones in the floor, was a puddle of water.

       Seeing the water made Xisuthros feel like their own tongue was drying out at that very moment.

       The water teased at Xisuthros.

       Xisuthros's vision swam—-they felt dizzy.

        They hadn't had anything to drink in years.

   Just like breathing, drinking was a human requirement—-those who were paranormal could go eons without needing to drink.

        I don't need it, Xisuthros reminded themselves. Though, it would be nice…

         Their lips were severely chapped.

        Xisuthros tried to wet their lips, but they had no luck. Crap, their mind cursed. They turned their head back to face forward once again, leading against the stone wall.

     Xisuthros continued to drown their dehydrated delirium.

      "Arikath… Arikath…" Swallow. Swallow. Their eyelids fluttered closed and open rather quickly. "Ashaarra… Ashaarra…"

       Even though Xisuthros seemed to be able to have coherent thoughts, their words seemed to be brief blurbs of sounds that fell away to the way side and ceased to be.

       Xisuthros continued to call out for those they knew in hopes one might hear them and take them away from the hellhole that was Xuviphas. "Arkamil… Arkamil… Arkamil…"

      Their delirium loomed heavy upon them—-so much so now that they began to call out names of those who they knew to be deceased. "... Azariyuk… Azariyuk… Xthyo… Xthyo… Xthyo…"

      They swallowed.

      Nobody is coming to save you. Why haven't you learned that yet?, Their mind seemed to ask them.

       "S-still… have a… c-chance," Xisuthros choked out in response to their own mind.

        Still? Do you even hear yourself? That must be the delirium talking… If someone was going to heroically rescue you, don't you think they would've done it thousands of years ago?, Xisuthros's mind questioned them. Besides… I'm sure Irzinog has already told the world of your "treachery"... He's surely fed and buried those lies deep within the minds of the people of the paranormal world.

      Xisuthros's heart sank. They swallowed before closing their eyes.

    "You can't just laze around," dawned Viljar, the Keeper of the Dead, as he approached Xisuthros. "You'll waste the day away."

    Hearken, Xisuthros thought, opening their eyes. They exhaled heavily. Irzinog used to say the same thing to me.

     Xisuthros slightly adjusted where they lay against the wall. They wanted to say, 'Waste the day? Why should I care? There's no time in this wretched place….just darkness', but no words came out—-all that came out was a pitiful, incoherent noise.

     Viljar sighed. "Fine. I'll let you get your rest, Waqas." He turned away. Then he called over his shoulder, "Just keep in mind that your brother will be here soon."

        Great. Kill me now, Xisuthros thought as they closed their eyes again.