<i>"It's time to remember who you are, Balam. To remember <b>me</b>."</i><br/><br/>That was the last sentence he heard before the world around him spiralled into confusion. A strong hand had grabbed his neck, then he vaguely remembered the feel of his body falling in darkness for what seemed like eternity. He hadn't even had a chance to contemplate on being misnamed, Balam ringing in his ears like a faint echo. As if he should know, as if he should remember. Without even fully understanding, a great tug caught deep inside his soul, like the beginnings of a seam unravelling to hint at what lay beneath the cloth. And the burning, that familiar burning on his skull the likes of which he experienced many years ago.<br/><br/>The lesser known demons were practically vibrating with excitement awaiting for permission to flock towards the trapped humans gathered beneath the raised platform. They were herded into a large crowd like nervous cattle, confused and terrified of the sights of the demons before them.  Tongues licked at wide gaping mouths and sharp teeth, some without proper faces at all. Whatever nightmares the mortal minds could concoct, they were surrounded by it and more. They truly were in hell.<br/><br/>And in the blink of an eye, they were pounced upon, or left to scatter to give a chasing sport.<br/><br/>It wasn't the sound of chaos that woke him, nor the sounds of screaming terror and the gut wrenching horrors resonating in the air. No, he was roused from unconsciousness from the pain of his skull splitting in two, the smouldering mark searing his skin as if freshly branded. His brow wrinkled, eyes begrudgingly opening as he tilted to the side in search of the commotion, but immediately wishing he could return to that floating bliss. What had once been a vamp of proud boisterous soldiers was now a bloodbath; monsters (for that's the only word to describe these creatures) were feasting on their flesh. sometimes on a single limb that left the poor sod screaming, others slowly being consumed whole beneath the waist. Some of the more leachers ones held men down and violated them in different orifices than Roark thought possible, and would prefer not to think how that logically worked.<br/><br/>A moan beside him was his saving grace and he tore his blue eyes away. Though the sight beside him wasn't as heinous, it set off a number of alarm bells towards his survival instincts.<br/><br/>The two beside him were lucky enough to still be comatose, but that didn't deter them from experiencing a torment. Both shared a visible mark on their bodies that mirrored his own, indented in the skin as if someone took a knife and carved it. He touched his own, feeling the same agony, worse than any headache or bash to the skull. It came within, just as the red glowing light that blazed on their flesh.<br/><br/>It was the woman that was farthest from him that reacted strongly first. She cried out, her body bowing as if she were a thin twig on the verge of being split in two. Her limbs began to contort in unnatural ways, as if a puppet master had tangled her strings. Cracks spiderwebbed across her skin, starting from that mark and shooting down her nearly naked body like cracks during an earthquake. Her head whipped side to side, still screaming, long hay coloured hair knotting and tangling as it cascaded over the intricate stone.<br/><br/>His eyes widened when those indents began to expand like a festering wound, enlarging by the minute. Forcing his sluggish limbs to work, with all his might he pushed himself up and hoisted his body off the dias into the murky darkness below, unsure what would await him there.<br/><br/>But he wasn't going to wait to suffer the same fate from his mark.