Considering the unending brutality of the pillory, the actual release from it was jarringly quick, devoid of the dramatic climax Hei had spent the last day imagining. The end of their torment came simply with the bored clank of an iron key turning in a brass lock.
The savior of the hour was a low-ranking night-shift guard, a man whose face sagged with the exhaustion of the graveyard shift.
When the iron collar finally clicked open, relinquishing its suffocating bite on Hei's throat, the sudden absence of the restraint was worse than its presence. Deprived of the cruel architecture that had held him upright for twenty-four hours, Hei collapsed.
His legs, having supported his dead weight in an unnatural posture, had long since forgotten how to function as limbs. They buckled, snapping like dry twigs under the sudden reassertion of gravity.
