Chapter V - In the Memory's Embrace

There's a moment in our lives we tend to forget—it could be an embarrassing moment in our past, a tragic, sad moment we'd like to forget for the benefit of our mental stability, or… The dark moments—a time where we succumbed to a deep dark side of ourselves, a point in our life that we've felt…wrong. There are those that overcome those events, thrive and evolve into something, someone better. But then, there are those who can't help but submit to their primal urges and end up regretting their shame, their sins, up to the point of insanity, to the point they lose their humanity. These people would sooner repress their shame into the deepest parts of their subconscious rather than take that one step—a step into the light and out of the darkness that lies within.

***

In the well-lit iron chamber—the room was filled with fresh air and warmth. An experience that had become almost alien to the suspended man, so much so that he was completely taken unawares by the chilling words of his captor—the hooded man. His captor's hidden presence gave the tortured man quite a fright—it was already bad enough that he couldn't see his tormentor's face, leaving him to wonder if his tormentor was the actual devil. But now, the fact that he couldn't see him at all, but knew he was there, lurking behind him like an unseen shadow, frightened him even more.

"Um..." He gulped in worry. He tried to face the hooded man by turning his head, but couldn't see, so with his 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?" said the hooded man, still poking and prodding behind the suspended man's torn back.

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

The hooded man chuckled for a moment, leaving chills in the suspended man's already fragile spine. He then proceeded to lower the suspended man down a few centimetres, making the stumps of his amputated legs still a few inches above the floor, making his head just about the same height as the hooded man.

As the hooded man's actions sent his mind reeling, the suspended man's frantic thoughts spiralled 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' chains!? Oh my god! Yes, Oh Yes!! Wait... No... No, no, no! The bastard's just lowerin' me down a bit, but why? For fuckin' Pete's sake, why!?'

With a hoarse voice, barely above a whisper, the suspended man summoned the last vestiges of his strength to ask, "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," he ordered. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with malevolence, as the hooded man 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, seemed to seep from the hooded man's hands, casting an unholy glow on the proceedings. 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 stayed hung, suspended in a world of agony, his gaze fixed on the golden elixir sitting untouched on the metal side table. The sounds emanating from his back—scraping, rubbing, dripping—created a ghastly symphony that threatened 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 that pressed upon 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 not a single 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 akin to frost—gradually freezing all that surrounded it. 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 then unplunged an elixir-laced silver rod 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.

"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 you did, Pride... Just like this. You took your time to end her... Now I'll take my time to end you."

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

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

"Pride! That ain't ma name, damnit!" the suspended man thundered, his voice growing stronger, defiance burning in his eyes. "You keep calling 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 spiralling 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 looking 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 right now, even within this 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 making any sense! Get off me back! Come an' face me like a man!"

"Ok." The hooded man proceeded towards 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 with surprise. "Huh!?"

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

The suspended man's confusion deepened. "W-Well, yeah. But why?"

A chilling smile spread across the hooded man's face. "I was finished with your back." The words sent a shiver down the suspended man's spine.

The suspended man needed to know, so he asked, "Finished with it? What exactly did you do back there?" But the hooded man just tilted his head, responding with a maddening "Hmm?"

The suspended man clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Yer really not gonna say, huh?"

The hooded man's tone turned menacing. "It doesn't matter if you know or not. I already told you, I'm finished with your back. Now...I'll work on your front..." As he spoke, he pulled the cork out of the golden elixir, releasing a thick, golden smoke that swirled around his arm like a living toxic aura.

The suspended man trembled with fear, his eyes fixed on the vial of mystical liquid. The hooded man began his slow, deliberate approach, the golden smoke swirling around him like a living thing.

"W-W-What are ye gonna do to me?" the suspended man stuttered, his voice barely audible.

The hooded man's silence was oppressive, his presence suffocating. Then, without warning, his hand shot out, disappearing into the suspended man's ribcage with a sickening *Squish*.

The suspended man's scream was frozen in his throat as the hooded man's hand closed around his thumping heart. "I am going to make you remember everything...."

In a flash of inhumane speed, the hooded man ripped out the suspended man's heart, the organ still pulsating in his grasp. He continued, "Then with the gift of remembrance... I'll watch as your sanity unravels, thread by thread." As he spoke, the hooded man's grip on the heart tightened, and with calculated precision, he began to pour the golden elixir into the capillaries of the throbbing heart. The liquid seemed to dissolve into the tissue, imbuing the heart with an otherworldly energy. Once the elixir was fully absorbed, the hooded man returned the heart to its rightful place with equal swiftness.

The suspended man's vision began to blur, his mind reeling from the trauma. The last thing he saw was the hooded man's face, his features twisting into a macabre grin, before everything plunged into darkness. And in that darkness, a single, haunting whisper echoed—"Welcome back, Pride..."

---