She stands motionless. As always the happenings of the outside world are remote, like she is a fish looking through glass. Sounds are muted. Feelings are muted. The only thing that is clear is the ever present darkness pressing down on her mind.
Give them the flame. Start with the race traitor.
It is so hard to think. So much easier just to obey.
She can feel the fires surging inside her begging for release. Once, when she had a different name, a different life, they scared her. Not any more.
She looks down at the melee, at her target, covered in blood and yelling out defiance. It is the same gnoll from before, the one that is so familiar.... a long buried part of her starts to scream...
The Flame Witch starts to shake, seemingly struggling against some unseen force. She opens her mouth and speaks, just barely audible over the fighting.
no…..i won’t….
……Grall…….