Ella screamed. Azazeal marvelled at the depth of pain that she was willing to suffer instead of breaking to his will. Though, she was a silly girl for putting so much meaning behind this mortal ritual of culling the herd of the outcasts. He wasn't here to convert her to the dark; he was here for her pain. Though it had its charms, Azazeal wasn't here just for his own pleasure - He was on his masters' orders. It pleased them to have her scream and be tormented. He took this to be a gift from below. The leather strap was curled around her temples and he gave the wheel controlling it a little turn. Her whimpers were lost in her harsh panting and hissing. The dear heart was trying to be strong. How sweet. He ran a finger along her jaw.

"Confess your evil deeds and all will be forgiven. God is merciful," Azazeal murmured, trying to hide a smirk at her grimace and bared teeth. The lies he told, God was vengeful and his memory long. He saw her swallow and knew that she was ready to spit at him. He reached over to the wheel and spun it harshly. Ella sucked in a gasp at the pain; choking. "The trial is on the morrow. Death by burning will be your fate."

"I shall never give in..." Ella said in a voice so hoarse and faint that he almost missed the determination, like iron, that lay underneath the whisper. "Nothing will stop me from my mission... Neither time nor space will deter me."

Moving fully behind the chair, Azazeal leaned forward. His masters wanted her to suffer; he was happy to oblige them. His lip curled as he remembered her mission. His first failure was because of her. Azazeal could almost feel the coarse rub of sand on his eyes. He had to remind himself that he was in a English dungeon surrounded by damp, fungi-covered stone wall; he wasn't in a searing hot mastaba drowning in sand... Yes, she would know pain - His masters would be pleased. "Herath was beautiful. Our child would have been... Have a care, Ella, you shall not get the Stone again."

The Stone of Belial; how he wished he could possess it and torture Ella as she had tortured him. This mortal farce of hot pokers and lashes couldn't compare to the anguish that she had caused him. Herath had been his beautiful princess and their son would have been powerful; he felt the power radiating from her womb. They would have been the most joyful of families. Damn those priests of Anubis...

Her wig was gone and Herath was screaming as they dragged her from him. The marble of the temple gave her bare feet no purchase; the bells on her ankles jingled with her every thrashing movement. Through the incense and smoke, he could see her lush lips twisted into a scream as she beseeched her father, the Pharaoh, for the life of his child. Her large brown eyes were moist as she pleaded.The priests were chanting and he couldn't break from their barriers. Where were his Nephelim? The crowd shifted and he couldn't see her. Their child couldn't be lost. A glint of light flickered across his face and he turned to see Ella Dee with the Stone of Belial between her blue-painted breasts. That bitch was chanting with the rest of the vermin clergy to keep him pinned as they destroyed his wife and babe. Herath... He could see her again. They had pulled her further down chamber but he could see the white linen of her dress blossoming to a bright red as the Pharaoh, himself, stabbed her in the belly. Azazeal screamed along with Herath and he almost broke free as they tossed her into a chariot. She kept wailing even after a soldier backhanded her to still her cries. Stepping into the chariot, the Pharaoh took the reins as the soldier held Herath by her bleeding waist with one muscled, bronze arm. Azazeal sent out further commands for help from the other Nephelim but the reply was only the chanting from the priests. The chariot sped out of his sight but he could hear the squeaking wheels of many others. He knew the entire army of Lower Egypt surrounded the temple; they wouldn't let his child be born. There was no escape. There was no child. There was only despair.

Ella Dee moved in front of him and he lunged for her, never minding the barrier, only to be repulsed. He landed on his back watching her raise her arms to call out words of power. White hot and blazing, pain shot through him and it wasn't the bitch that caused it but his own masters for his failure...

"You know pain not," Azazeal said, low and bitter before he ripped the leather strap from her head and, with his mind, made the shackles on her wrist and ankles unlock before lifting her up. The fire pokers had been sitting in the flames long enough. He would make Ella burn.