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Nivram
Nivram lived in a world of pain. No sounds reached his ears only a dull buzz, permeated the fog in his mind. His eyes, when he managed to open them more than a tiny slit, saw only blurred shapes, none of them bearing a semblance to anything he had over seen. He kept swimming in and out of consciousness, but felt absolutely no difference between the two states, except the absence of pain when consciousness eluded him.
When conscious, he mumbled half-constructed syllables and weak sentences, but nothing came out coherently.
Waves of white light kept washing over Nivram, the origin of which he could not understand. The feeling was a pleasant one, almost as if gentle hands were caressing his whole body.
Sound was the first to return. Between two bouts of unconsciousness, soft, gentle voices penetrated the fog on Nivram's mind. The voices seemed to be chanting in a language, not familiar to Nivram.
The pain returned with a sudden viciousness as it threatened to swamp over Nivram and then it disappeared almost as suddenly as it had come. The voices stopped and Nivram slowly opened his eyes.
He had to blink several times. After spending almost sixteen hours in a state close to blindness, the light hurt his eyes more than the pain of his torture had.
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