The Cavern
Time has lost all meaning. The seconds, minutes, and hours blend together into an indistinguishable mass. I can't tell if I've been here for moments or an eternity. It's all a ceaseless, disorienting blur, and my attempts to discern any semblance of chronology are futile.
The voices—those of the masked figure, my fellow prisoners, and the distant echoes—merge into an unintelligible cacophony. I can hear them, but their words are gibberish. They hold no meaning, no connection to reality. It's as if they speak in a language I've never heard before, and my attempts to grasp their significance only result in more confusion.
The fear that once gripped me has been replaced by a numbing emptiness. I'm adrift in a sea of confusion, unable to grasp onto a single thought or emotion. My memories, if I ever had any, are a foggy mirage. It's as if the past has been erased, leaving me suspended in an eternal present that holds no context.