The Chains of the Past 

Daniel was immersed in darkness. The light from the torches on the walls seemed to flicker and distort, as if the very room was reacting to his presence. His breathing was heavy and erratic, as if the air itself had become an invisible enemy, making each breath a battle. The weight on his chest wasn't physical, yet it crushed him with an unbearable force, as if something deep within his soul was being dragged out, exposing parts of himself he had buried for so long.

His mind was foggy, and with each beat of his heart, time seemed to slow down, and the echoes of his own breathing reverberated almost deafeningly. The environment around him was oppressive, and it felt like it was closing in with every passing second. The walls of the Citadel, towering and imposing, now seemed to trap him in a prison without bars, without doors, with no escape. The air was thick, nearly solid, as if the atmosphere itself was determined to suffocate him.

And before him, stood... that.