Looking at the wolf I learned the meaning of cacaesthesia. Soon, I would know nothing but pain. Shapeless beings held me. We stood before an ocean or melted rock. Whisps of that rock floated, like steam, above that ocean. I was drowning in the caliginous environment.
The wolf had many names. Hades. Pluto. Calu. Satan. Fire filled his eyes. His coat was pure fire. He growled, snapped his teeth and the beings holding me hurled me into it. For every heartbeat, every breath, for all time, I would only know the endless pain of being burned alive.