The chanting never ceased. It surrounded me, a living thing pressing against my skin, rattling my bones. I watched the children lined up in the center of the hall, trembling and sobbing. Some sobbed quietly, some screamed.
Every noise, every movement, fed the masked figures' satisfaction.
One boy was dragged forward, stumbling, terror etched across his face. The masked figures circled him, chanting. The boy screamed, high-pitched, desperate, his words echoing in the stone hall:
"Please… stop! I didn't do anything!"
The torturers smiled behind their masks, leaning close, tilting their heads in almost imperceptible gestures of approval. They thrived on fear, on control, on dominance. Each reaction from a child was a feast for them.
Another child, a little girl, was forced to endure acts of humiliation, stripped and made to stand while the torturers traced symbols on her arms and shoulders. She cried softly, trembling, whispering pleas:
"Please… please don't hurt us…"
The chants rose, a rhythmic tide of power and menace. The tormented children could do nothing to stop it, and the masked figures moved with elegance and precision, savoring each moment of terror and submission.
I huddled in my chains, memorizing everything. Every mask, every whisper, every motion. The way the torturers rotated during the rituals, the way they gestured to each other silently, the exact order of chants, the symbols carved on the floor and walls—all of it. Daniel had to know. Someone had to see.
Some children fell silent, broken, their voices swallowed by the chanting. Others trembled, still crying, still pleading. I could feel the pleasure the torturers took, their satisfaction almost tangible, suffocating the air around us.
My mind raced. I pressed my face to the wall, shivering, tasting blood from my lip, forcing myself to focus. I couldn't act. I couldn't intervene. But I could remember, record, memorize. Every detail, every scream, every act of cruelty, every sign of twisted satisfaction—everything.
The ritual ended. The children were dragged away, sobbing, broken. Some would not return. Some… I did not know. The chanting ceased for only a heartbeat before the shadows shifted, readying the next round.
I drew in a shaky breath, counting seconds.
Somehow… I would endure. Somehow… I would leave a trail. Daniel had to see the truth. And if I didn't survive… someone would know the horrors of the island.