CHAPTER 135: THE FRACTURED MOON

The pain woke Drakon from his sleep. Drakon winced as a whip lashed across his back, the pain slicing through him like a hot knife. The soldiers, clad in ancient robes and armour, had returned; this time, they showed no mercy. Their faces were stern, devoid of empathy, as they punished him. Each strike was accompanied by the thud of the whip hitting flesh and the grunt of pain that escaped his lips. He didn't know why he was here or what he had done to deserve this. His memories were a haze, lost in the depths of his mind. All he knew was the pain and the cold, unyielding grip of the chains that bound him. After what felt like an eternity, the soldiers dragged him back to a pole outside the camp. They chained him there, his arms stretched above his head, the rough wood biting into his wrists. The sky above was not blue. The fractured moon gave no lights. The pieces of the moon seemed to be repelled by some unseen force, constantly shifting but never coming together. Drakon stared a