IN THE TORTURE ROOM
The cold metal of the chair dug into my skin, and my bound wrists throbbed with pain.
The room was dark, illuminated only by a dim light filtering through the cracks in the door.
Every sound was amplified; every creak seemed a harbinger of new suffering.
The illusion had been perfect, every detail so real that for a moment, I had believed I had found a way out.
But now, cruel reality enveloped me in its icy grip.
I was still a prisoner, and the Second Trial had just begun.
A door opened with a screech.
From the blinding light emerged a figure.
It was him, the man with the scar.
His cruel smile widened as he approached me, his eyes full of wicked satisfaction.
"Welcome back to reality," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did you really think you could escape so easily?"
I didn't respond.
My mind was focused on one goal: to resist. I wouldn't allow them to break me, not yet.
"Ah, the silence of courage," the man with the scar continued, circling me. "But you see, courage is useless here. This is a place where even the strongest bend."
With a quick gesture, he grabbed my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes.
"I want you to understand one thing: there is no escape. Every hope is just an illusion."
He released my chin with a sharp shove and walked away.
I heard the metallic sound of torture instruments being prepared. My mind wandered, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare.
IN MY MIND
The darkness seemed to swallow everything.
But deep within me, a faint light continued to shine.
It was my will, my determination not to give in.
I tried to focus on that light, on that small glimmer of hope.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pain and fear.
"Where's your courage now?" asked the man with the scar, his voice a hiss in the darkness.
I didn't respond. Instead, I focused on my mind, on my will to resist.
I knew that, as cruel and powerful as the illusion was, it couldn't break my spirit.
The man approached again, this time with a sharp instrument in hand. He made it gleam in the light, making it dance before my eyes.
"This is the price of your stubbornness."
Pain exploded as the blade cut into my skin.
But I didn't scream.
My mind was elsewhere, focused on the inner light, on that small spark of hope they could never extinguish.
IN THE HEART OF DARKNESS
Time seemed to stand still, each moment an eternal torture. But my mind kept fighting, resisting.
Then, in a moment of extreme clarity, I understood.
The real trial wasn't physical; it was mental.
I had to resist the illusions, the cruel games of my mind.
I had to find strength within me, beyond the pain and despair.
With one last effort, I opened my eyes.
The man with the scar was about to inflict another blow, but something in my gaze stopped him.
He saw the unwavering determination in my eyes, and for a brief moment, his smile faltered.
IN THE DEPTHS OF THE MIND
The darkness still enveloped me, but my will burned like an indomitable flame. Nothing would stop me. Nothing would prevent me from discovering the truth and finding my freedom.
The illusion could break the body, but it could never break the spirit.
And as the shadow of torture loomed over me, I knew that as long as I had breath in my lungs and a heartbeat, I would continue to fight.
Only it was pointless to do it here, now, when besides not knowing his strength, it was likely there were others who would come here.
Others whose exact strength I didn't know, which was why it was far better for me to fight, yes, but within the illusion.
"Since it's an illusion, there's nothing they can do within it, and I can try to gather information," were my thoughts.
"Fine, I'll go into the illusion then," I said.
IN THE TORTURE ROOM
The man with the scar paused, the knife still in his hand. His cruel smile widened, revealing sharp white teeth.
"Interesting," he said, his voice laden with cold malice. "Have you decided to accept the illusion, to retreat into that false world until you fall into despair? Or do you perhaps think you can find a way out within it?"
I didn't respond. The pain was still intense, but my mind was elsewhere, focused on a new plan.
The man with the scar turned to his companions, who watched the scene with expressions of curiosity and satisfaction.
"See?" he said. "Even the strongest eventually give in. Go, prepare everything. Our prisoner has chosen to return to the illusion."
The other men nodded and moved quickly, preparing to send me back into the illusory world.
I watched them calmly, despite the terror and pain. I knew this was my only opportunity.
IN THE TORTURE ROOM
So, after they said that, they took me to the previous room, where they activated a series of mechanisms that began to generate the illusion within the room and make me stay inside it.
After they did that, I started to notice small discrepancies compared to the real place, probably because I was on guard and aware that I would soon be within the illusion. But the experience seemed different from the first time.
The cold and humidity were the same, but now I was aware that I was in an illusion.
This time, however, everything seemed more unstable, as if my awareness of the illusory nature of the place had altered its coherence and some of its details might be different.
Every step I took seemed to resonate with an unnatural echo, as if the walls were whispering forgotten secrets.
I focused on the details, trying to spot the discrepancies.
My mind had to stay sharp; every little clue could be the key to getting out.