They were cutting me open. A knife split through my chest, lacerating layers of tanned skin and muscle as I screamed out in an agony unlike any I had ever known. 

But this was only the beginning.

Rough hemp rope kept me tied fast to the icy surface of an altar, its polished marble reflecting a blinding light coming from beside me. Steady hands brought the source of the light, contained in an urn, to the bloody, gaping opening in my chest. I fought helplessly against the bonds, eyes widening as they became closer and closer. 

Long, slender fingers pressed the opening of the urn to the gash, and the light poured out, imprisoned in its new home inside my flesh. All at once, every nerve in my body burned as if I was a martyr on a fiery stake, and I gasped, a silent scream tearing out of my lungs. I truly thought nothing could keep me from remembering the searing pain.