Dearest observer,

  There are memories we’d rather forget—some humiliating, some heartbreaking, and some so dark they haunt us. Some rise above them, shaping a new path, while others are consumed, lost in regret. Instead of facing the past, they bury it deep, fearing the truth of what they once were.

  ***

  In the well-lit iron chamber, fresh air and warmth filled the room—an experience almost alien to the suspended man. So much so that he was completely unprepared for the chilling words of his captor—the hooded man.

  His tormentor’s unseen presence sent a shiver through him. It was bad enough that he couldn’t see the man’s face, leaving him to wonder if he was staring into the darkness of the actual devil. But now, unable to see him at all yet knowing he lurked behind him like an unseen shadow, the fear only deepened.

  "Um..." He gulped, worry tightening his throat. He tried to turn his head, straining to see the hooded man, but the effort was useless. With a dry, rough, exhausted breath, he asked, "What... were ye doin' behind... me?"

  "Oh, nothing really. Simply checking the progress for the final touches, is all?" The hooded man’s voice was smooth, almost casual, as he continued poking and prodding behind the suspended man's torn back.

  "The progress? Final touches?" The suspended captive uttered, his brows furrowing with concern. "What do ye mean by 'progress'? Just what the hell are ye doin' to me backside?"

  The hooded man chuckled, the sound sending a chill through the captive’s already fragile spine. Without a word, he adjusted the chains, lowering the suspended man by a few centimetres. The stumps of his amputated legs still hung inches above the floor, while his head was now level with the hooded man’s.

  As the hooded man's actions sent his mind reeling, the suspended man's frantic thoughts spiraled out of control.

  'W-What's goin' on!? Is the madman finally bringin' me down from these shitty chains!? It can't be! Am I finally gonna be let out of this fuckin' hell!? Oh my god! Yes—oh yes! Wait... No... No, no, no! The bastard's just lowerin' me a bit. But why? For fuck's sake, why!?'

  With a hoarse voice, barely above a whisper, he summoned the last vestiges of his strength. "W-What... are ye goin' do to me? Ah... What's your... end game...?"

  The hooded man's response was a low, menacing growl. "Be silent. Be still."

  The air thickened, heavy with malevolence, as he continued his sinister work.

  Weird tools—ritual blades, perhaps?—glinted in the dim light, their edges whispering against the suspended man's ravaged back. A reddish liquid, eerily reminiscent of blood, seeped from the hooded man's hands, casting an unholy glow over the scene. The atmosphere congealed, becoming a living, breathing entity that wrapped itself around the suspended man’s fragile form.

  Time lost all meaning as the suspended man hung, suspended in a world of agony. His gaze remained fixed on the golden elixir, sitting untouched on the metal side table. The sounds from his back—scraping, rubbing, dripping—created a ghastly symphony, threatening to consume his sanity.

  'Just what the hell's this madman doin' to me back?' he wondered, but his voice remained trapped in his throat.

  The hooded man's silence was oppressive, a physical force pressing down on the suspended man's chest. Minutes ticked by—twenty, thirty, perhaps an hour—as the hooded man worked his dark magic. Then, without warning, he spoke, his voice a low, measured tone that sent shivers coursing through the suspended man's mummified frame...

  "Do you... remember the moment I brought you into this place...? It was dark, cold, and you had no idea who I was or what you'd done to deserve this... Every... every single thing that happened after that was completely beyond your control..."

  As the hooded man spoke, the air became stuffy and cold, as if his words were frost—gradually freezing all that surrounded them. The suspended man couldn't, and wouldn't dare, interrupt him now that he was speaking.

  The "work" progressed, the hooded man's steady hand moving with deliberate slowness as he etched unknown symbols onto the suspended man's back. The air was heavy with malevolence, each symbol a whispered promise of agony.

  "I understand that feeling very well," the hooded man continued, his voice low and eerily calm. "There was no questioning, no explanation... Only torture, only pain..." He paused, his grip on the man's shoulder tightening like a vice. The suspended man's heart skipped a beat as the hooded man whispered, his breath cold against his ear, "I understand how you felt in that moment. I truly did."

  A beat of silence, then the hooded man's words dropped like a guillotine: "I understand... Because I was there when you did the same thing to my mother, that fateful, cold, and stormy night."

  The suspended man's mind reeled, his body shuddering as if the very words had physical form. Then, without warning, the hooded man plunged—and then unplunged—a silver rod laced with elixir into the suspended man's spine. A jolt of adrenaline and energy coursed through his veins, but the suspended man's thoughts remained mired in confusion and horror.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "H-How...?" he stammered, his dried-up voice barely audible but filled with energy nonetheless.

  "I was there, Pride," the hooded man repeated, his tone devoid of emotion. "I watched it all happen right before my eyes."

  "This is... impossible," the suspended man protested, his mind reeling. "I wouldn't— I-I couldn't!"

  The hooded man's laughter was a cold, mirthless sound. "But ye did, Pride... Just like this. Ye took yer time to end her... Now I'll take me time to end ye."

  "That's not me name," the suspended man whispered, a spark of defiance igniting within him.

  The hooded man's gaze narrowed. "What? What do ye mean...?"

  "Pride! That ain't me name, dammit!" the suspended man thundered, his voice growing stronger, defiance burning in his eyes. "Ye keep callin' me that name. Why is that?"

  The hooded man's hands moved with deliberate slowness as he applied the final markings on the suspended man's back, the symbols seeming to sear themselves into his skin. "Because you're the last one," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice.

  The suspended man's eyes widened in confusion. "W-What?" The situation was spiraling out of control, each word from the hooded man's lips weaving a web of terror.

  The hooded man's gaze seemed to bore into the suspended man's soul. "You really don't remember, huh?" His voice was light, yet laced with a cold, calculated cruelty.

  "Remember what?" the suspended man wondered.

  The hooded man's smile was a thin, cruel line. "Remember who you were, what you are, or... what you did all those years ago..." The words hung in the air like a challenge.

  The suspended man's face twisted in desperation. "Listen, mate, I'm just a normal, everyday caretaker. Like I said before ye did all this to me, I ain't the guy ye're lookin' for!"

  The hooded man's laughter was a low, menacing sound. "Oh no... you are the one I've been searching for. I can never forget that hideous aura. Even now, even within these mana-inhibiting iron walls, it's still just like the others... thick and chaotic, like purple flames." His eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire as he spoke, as if he could see some dark, malevolent force emanating from the suspended man's very being.

  The suspended man's face contorted in rage. "Aura? Others? Purple flames...!? Mate, yer not makin' any sense! Get off me back! Come an' face me like a man!"

  "Okay." The hooded man proceeded toward the man's front without worry, his movements eerily calm. As he did, he grabbed the mystical golden elixir from the side metal table and faced the suspended man.

  The suspended man's eyes widened in surprise. "Huh!?"

  The hooded man's expression remained unreadable. "What? I did as you wanted."

  The suspended man's confusion deepened. "W-Well, aye... but why?"

  A chilling smile crept across the hooded man's face. "I was finished with your back." The words slithered into the suspended man's ears like a cold whisper, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

  The suspended man needed to know so he demanded, "Finished with it? What exactly did ye do back there?"

  But the hooded man merely tilted his head, his response an infuriatingly casual, "Hmm?"

  The suspended man clicked his tongue, exasperation creeping into his tone. "Yer really not gonna tell me, huh?"

  The hooded man's voice dropped, laced with quiet menace. "It doesn't matter if you know or not. I told you—I’m finished with your back." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before his lips curled into a sinister smirk. "Now... I’ll work on your front."

  With deliberate care, he pulled the cork from the golden elixir. A thick, golden smoke seeped out, curling around his arm like a living, malevolent entity, its glow casting eerie shadows against the cold iron walls.

  The suspended man stiffened, eyes darting between the vial and the hooded man's growing smirk. "Erm, ye know what? I suddenly feel just fine with ye at me back! So how about ye just get behind me, Satan?"

  "Hmph." The hooded man let out a low chuckle as he began his slow, deliberate approach, the golden smoke curling around him like a living entity, writhing and pulsing in anticipation.

  The suspended man's breath hitched. "W-W-What are ye gonna do to me?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

  The hooded man remained silent, his presence alone suffocating, pressing in from all sides like a thick, unseen force. Then, without warning—

  Squish

  The hooded man's hand plunged straight into the suspended man's ribcage.

  A strangled gasp escaped the suspended man's lips, but his scream never came—it was trapped, suffocated by the sheer impossibility of what had just happened. His wide, terror-stricken eyes darted downward, barely comprehending the sight of the hooded man's arm buried deep within his chest.

  Fingers curled around something warm, something beating.

  The hooded man leaned in, his breath ice-cold against the suspended man's ear. "I am going to make you remember... everything."

  Then, with inhuman speed, he ripped the heart free.

  The suspended man's entire body convulsed. His vision blurred. A raw, unnatural sensation surged through him—not quite pain, but something far worse.

  The heart, still throbbing in the hooded man's grasp, pulsed weakly, its surface slick with dark crimson.

  "Then, with the gift of remembrance..." the hooded man murmured, his grip tightening around the organ, "I’ll watch as your sanity unravels, thread by thread."

  As he spoke, he tilted the vial of golden elixir over the still-beating heart. The thick, luminous liquid seeped into the capillaries, spreading like molten gold through the delicate veins. The moment the heart absorbed the last drop, it shuddered—then glowed, its pulse synchronising with something unseen, something ancient and terrible.

  Without hesitation, the hooded man thrust the heart back into its rightful place.

  The suspended man's body lurched violently as his very essence seemed to react to the unnatural act. His mind screamed at him to comprehend, to rationalise—but nothing made sense anymore.

  The suspended man's vision began to blur, his mind spiraling into chaos from the relentless torment. His body, now numb, hung limply as the weight of everything—everything he'd endured—pressed down on him like a crushing wave.

  The last thing he saw was the hooded man's face, warped in a twisted grin, a cruel mockery of triumph. The light flickered in the suspended man's fading sight, and that grin was all he could focus on—the last image burned into his mind like a brand.

  And then... darkness.

  Complete, suffocating darkness.

  A silence so deep, so profound, that it felt as though the very world had ceased to exist.

  But in that emptiness, a whisper slithered through the void, an insidious sound that crawled beneath the suspended man's skin.

  "Welcome back, Pride..."

  The name echoed through the abyss, like a death sentence, a memory too terrible to escape.

  And then... nothing.

  ---