Alexander’s head was swimming when he woke up again, his eyes heavy and his head aching. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep for and couldn’t really remember why he’d fallen asleep in the first place. Instinctively, he went to reach his hand over to soothe his throbbing temple but at the slightest movement of his right arm he felt a tug against his wrist. Cold steel digging into his skin and the rattle of a chain tightening followed after. His eyes shot open he turned to look at his right arm but could hardly see anything to begin with, all he could make out was a faint orange glow of candlelight reflecting off the metal around his wrist. Sharply turning his head to his left, the same was the case for his other arm and looking ahead the same for his leg. Though, only one of his legs. His right leg had a metal chain around it where his left leg didn’t. He couldn’t see his left leg in the dark but a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach made him think there was a reason he couldn’t see his left leg at all. He tried to move it but he felt nothing in response. Panic set in.

A creak echoed throughout the room, an old unoiled hinge, coming from the far left corner of the room. A much brighter light shone through the open door, coming from a lantern carried by an obscured figure who walked into the room. A small group followed them and the last to enter closed the door behind them, with another loud groan. Alexander lifted his head as high as he could to try and look at the figures in the room. Each were wearing dark, hooded robes, their faces covered in the shadow of the lantern.

“You shouldn’t be awake for this, Alexander.” He couldn’t tell which of the group had spoke it but he recognised the voice immediately, the priest of the church. The memory of the tussle at the altar and being knocked unconscious by this man returned to him. Alexander wanted to fight back, he wanted to push him to the ground and see how he liked it but right now he couldn’t and worryingly he wasn’t even sure if he would be able to stand. He tugged against the metal, trying best to break free, but no one moved in to stop him. It was clear that they weren’t worried about Alexander breaking free any time soon and he stopped trying. The leader of the group walked forward, carrying the lantern ahead of them. He assumed this was the priest, after all the man appeared to take somewhat of a leadership role in the town it only made sense if he was leading this group of cultish followers. Alexander watched the priest as he walked by the left side of his body. Much to Alexander's relief, the light of the lantern as he walked by illuminated his left leg. He hadn’t lost it though it was clear why he had trouble feeling it. Tight leather straps wrapped around his left leg, from below the knee to his ankle, tight enough to numb any sensation. He mentally corrected himself, he hadn’t lost his leg yet. It was as though they were purposefully trying to kill his leg, to force the need for amputation. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in this room but he worried that he wouldn’t have much longer before his left leg became completely unusable. The priest stopped as he stood by Alexander’s side.

“Please,” He begged, finally getting a clear look of the old man’s face under the hood. “Let me go home.” The priest only sighed in response, placing the lantern down on the table that Alexander was splayed across. The light travelled down to the end of the table where stains of blood soaked into the wood covered the bottom left corner. His heart raced as his brain was finally putting all the pieces together and coming to the realisation that his irrational, conscious mind had come to already.

“We’re giving you the home you asked for.” The priest replied, pulling a book from under his cloak. He turned the pages and began to read. “By the grace of the new god...” It sounded much like a prayer of sorts but as he continued Alexander began to grow uneasy. His mind seemed to block out the words as the beat of his own heart echoed inside his skull. The others stood at the far end of the room, between the table and the wall, reached into their own cloaks but they didn’t retrieve their own books. Glistening steel reflected the orange glow of the lantern as each one of the hooded figures pulled from under their cloak what looked like a butcher's axe. Small and sharp, they each held them in a ceremonial manner.

"Bless our blades so we may remove the demon from your son, Alexander." The priest continued, Alexander hearing just another part of the prayer. He turned to the priest with desperation.

“This has to be a mistake. A coincidence, someone else named Alexander who wanted to find a new life in the village.” Though his plees fell on deaf ears. The priest’s prayer continued, unwavering, and the others stood at the far end of the room without so much as a hint of hesitation. “I’m telling you it wasn’t me! You can’t do this to me!” He struggled and thrashed, trying desperately to free his left leg but no matter how hard his brain told his leg to move there was nothing he could do. The tight straps had already done their job and it was only a matter of time before…

With a snap of the pages, the priest shut his book close in his hands and hid it back into his cloak. Alexander didn’t want to watch, he turned his head to look in the complete opposite direction to his leg and closed his eyes tight as if that would make a difference. At the very least he wouldn’t know when it was coming and perhaps the shock would be enough for him to pass out and avoid most of the pain. The priest whispered something and he heard more footsteps on the stone floor. They stopped by his side. It was coming and he knew he couldn’t stop it, let alone ignore what was going to happen. Given up hope that he’d be able to escape he desperately wished that it was over quickly, that he wouldn’t have to suffer through the pain but the truth was he had no idea what to expect. His heartbeat was like a stampede in his head, but through the deafening noise he heard something.

"I'm sorry, mister." A voice called. Alexander recognised the voice of the young woman, he thought, as he turned his head and opened his eyes to confirm his suspicions. The axe caught the light of the lantern as she raised it above her head, from under her hood Alexander could just see her face. The girl from the shop, who had said such nice things and given him food for free. She was about to cut off his leg. Alexander didn’t scream when the blade struck with his leg, nor did he let out a cry or a whimper. Alexander froze in place. He couldn’t feel the blood trickling down his leg or his taut muscles pulling back like elastic as the steel sliced through them. The only sign that anything was happening at all was the sound. Over and over again, and indescribable noise that only worsened when they had reached the bone. The splatter of flesh from the open wound turned to the crunch and crack of bone and before it all ended Alexander had passed out once again.