Crimson snow

The pure, untouched snow bore witness to crimson stains that stood out in stark contrast. It was an indelible memory, etched deep within my consciousness. I found myself on my hands and knees, the weight of my body sinking into the cold snow. Drops of blood trickled from my battered head and shoulders, staining the purity of the landscape. An overwhelming sense of unease engulfed me as I listened to the piercing screams and the distant cacophony of barking dogs. I surveyed the scene, a tableau of horror, and my eyes fell upon lifeless forms scattered around me, their scarlet marks blending with the once-pristine snow.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I struggled to rise, waves of pain crashing through my aching head and searing through my back. Yet, the urgency of approaching voices spurred me into action. My heart pounded in my chest, as if it sought to break free from its confines. Adrenaline surged through my veins, propelling me forward. Finally on my feet, I frantically scanned my surroundings, my disoriented mind spinning and the nauseating sensation threatening to overwhelm me. Nevertheless, I compelled my trembling limbs to carry me forward, taking the first hesitant step that soon turned into an instinctive sprint. Through the snow-covered evergreen forest, I ran, driven by an unknown destination.

"Do I truly need to flee?" I murmured aloud, my voice filled with bewilderment as I grappled with the enigma of my circumstances.

Straining to recollect fragmented memories, I sought answers, desperate to understand the reasons behind my relentless pursuit. Who were these lifeless figures that surrounded me? And what awaited me if I were to be captured? The chilling thought of my fate fueled my fear, urging me to push myself even harder, to run with an intensity bordering on desperation.

"He's here!" a voice echoed from behind, punctuated by urgency. "We've discovered his footprints, and he's injured! But proceed with caution!"

No further words reached my ears, drowned out by the sound of my own rapid breaths. It felt as though my heart would burst from my chest, its frenetic rhythm echoing in my ears. However, the limits of endurance soon made themselves known. Gradually, my legs grew heavier with each passing stride, the nausea surged back with vengeance, and the dizziness intensified, threatening to send me toppling into the unforgiving embrace of the snow.

I recall stumbling over an unseen obstacle, my weakened body giving way to the inevitable. Collapsing into the icy blanket beneath me, the snow enveloped me with its frigid touch. My body, battered and broken, surrendered to the weariness that overwhelmed me, aching for respite, even if it meant succumbing to a final rest. As my eyelids drooped and darkness encroached upon my vision, the voices grew louder, a discordant symphony of my captors drawing closer.

"Do as you wish, you bastards," I silently seethed, bitterness permeating my thoughts. My battered form resigned itself to the impending fate, convinced that enough torment had been endured.

When consciousness returned to me, I found myself in a dimly lit room, its shadows stretching ominously across the worn brick walls. Shackles bound my wrists and ankles, a stark reminder of my captivity and the stripping away of my freedom. They served as cruel weights, draining the last vestiges of strength from my weary frame. Confined to a sturdy iron chair, my movements were restricted, rendering my attempts to break free futile and feeble.

A creak shattered the oppressive silence, causing my head to jerk in its direction. Straining against the gloom, I strained to discern the figure that stood there.

Only a feeble beam of light pierced through the suffocating darkness, casting an ethereal glow on the weathered brick walls that bore witness to countless secrets. I twitched once more, my muscles taut with anticipation, but all that met my senses was the disheartening clanging of iron, a haunting melody of captivity.

"Ah, your temperament truly matches your nickname... Mart," a raspy voice, burdened with weariness and the weight of impending demise, filled the room. It resonated with a sense of resignation, as if the speaker stood at the precipice of a dreadful disease, weary from the ceaseless struggle for another mere hour of existence. Yet, within the haunting timbre of that voice, there lingered a fragmentary recollection, an evocation of my nickname that stirred a flicker of recognition within me.

"Perhaps someone else remembers your name, but..." The hoarse voice abruptly ceased, swallowed by the heavy shuffling of footsteps and the distinct tapping of a cane upon the unforgiving stone floor. Each step reverberated with newfound vitality, resonating with an ominous energy that sent tremors coursing through the very core of my being. The room, already cloaked in shadows, seemed to darken further as this enigmatic presence drew near.

My heart, an erratic drummer in my chest, pounded with a mix of trepidation and a desperate desire for escape. Questions swirled in my mind, coalescing into a chaotic chorus. Who was this voice that knew my nickname? Why had I been ensnared in this nightmarish predicament? And what sinister fate awaited me now that I was trapped within the clutches of this unknown captor?

As the figure loomed closer, the air grew heavy with anticipation, laced with the scent of foreboding. I strained against my restraints, the iron biting into my flesh, each movement met with the cruel resistance of unyielding bonds. Yet, despite the physical constraints, my spirit burned with an unquenchable flame of defiance and the primal instinct for survival.

The faint glow illuminated the contours of the figure, revealing a gaunt silhouette, draped in tattered garments that hung loosely from their emaciated frame. Wrinkles etched deep lines across their face, a testament to the toll exacted by a lifetime of suffering. Their eyes, obscured by shadows, flickered with a sinister glimmer, hinting at a hidden agenda that lay dormant within their weary soul.

A ghostly whisper escaped their cracked lips, the words laden with a twisted mix of amusement and malice. "Mart... the hunted becomes the hunter, and yet, something is amiss." The voice, now infused with a renewed vigor, sent a shiver down my spine, the weight of their words sinking into the very marrow of my bones.

In that moment, I understood that my journey had only just begun, that the trials I had faced were mere preludes to a far more sinister orchestration. The room, once a prison, transformed into a theater of malevolence, where the curtain had yet to rise on the twisted performance that awaited me.

The scene unfolded before me, revealing a man of haunting frailty. He stood in front of me, leaning heavily on a cane clutched in his trembling right hand. His face remained concealed by a mask, concealing the signs of impending demise. Yet, despite his feeble appearance, there was an undeniable vigor in his steps, contradicting the imminent specter of death. Donned in a green uniform, his chest proudly displayed an array of awards and medals, signifying past valor. His disheveled dark hair was meticulously combed to the right side, cropped short along the edges.

"Who are you?" he inquired, his gaze piercing into mine as he closed the uncomfortable distance between us.

His eyes, once hidden, were now revealed to me. They possessed a murky quality, seemingly an alluring swamp in their depths. One could easily get lost within their enigmatic depths. I attempted to avert my gaze, feeling an inexplicable unease, but it was as if our eyes were magnetically drawn together, locked in an unbreakable connection.

"I..." I began, my words faltering as I struggled to find the right response. "..March?" I ventured, trying to inject a touch of cleverness into my answer. Little did I realize the swift retribution that awaited me for my audacity.

A surge of excruciating pain erupted within my skull, as though a relentless axe had cleaved through my consciousness, leaving me alive to endure the aftermath. Something seemed to writhe and crawl within the recesses of my mind, urging me to look away, to shut my eyes and escape the intensity of his gaze. But my eyelids refused to obey, as if fused together, as if they too were ensnared by the gravitational pull of our locked gazes.

Abruptly, the crawling sensation ceased, replaced by a look of suspicion and surprise in those swampy eyes that scrutinized me. The stranger, seemingly satisfied, swiftly made his way toward the exit, his stride maintaining the same relentless pace with which he had entered. I yearned to call out, to seize his attention, but before I could utter a single word, the door slammed shut, severing any chance of communication. Defeated, I made a final, futile attempt to break free from the icy grip of the unforgiving chair, only to succumb to its unyielding hold. Disgust washed over me, mingling with a sense of resignation as I realized that all that remained was to endure, to wait in the stifling darkness that enveloped the room.

Yet, the wait proved to be ephemeral, for less than ten minutes later, the room was once again invaded. Familiar footsteps echoed through the chamber, now accompanied by an additional set of legs, their presence more burdened and less assured.

"Commence," the hoarse voice commanded, a phrase that sent shivers down my spine, filling me with an overwhelming sense of dread.

In an instant, the reason for my apprehension became clear. A viscous substance, reminiscent of sticky tree resin, was applied to my neck. The scent that wafted into my nostrils triggered a vague sense of recognition. But then, a creeping numbness gradually overtook my neck, followed by an electrifying surge of pain that coursed through every nerve ending. A tortured scream erupted from my lips, the only expression of the anguish that consumed me. My body succumbed to a state of numbing paralysis, as if the very act of breathing had been forgotten. The ordeal was mercifully brief, yet it felt as though time had been stretched to its limits, elongating the torment into an eternity.

"That's enough," the hoarse voice declared, turning his attention back to me, a smirk playing upon his lips, though the surprise never fully dissipated from his countenance.

"Yes, Sir Dzvali," two voices, rough and low, echoed in response, their obedience resonating with an air of submission. The heavy footsteps hastened out of the room, leaving behind an unsettling silence that hung in the air like a veil of foreboding.

"I don't know what fate has befallen you, but you bear no resemblance to your former self," Dzvali remarked with a tone of twisted amusement, relishing in the sight of my altered state. "And that brings me great pleasure. One less wretched soul to contend with."

But I heard none of his words. Instead, there was only a disorienting cacophony of ringing in my ears, drowning out all external sounds. My head throbbed and pounded relentlessly, as if a relentless drummer performed a frenzied solo upon my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, seeking refuge from the assault on my senses. Yet, even in the darkness behind my eyelids, the voice of the sadistic overseer resonated, mingling with an incomprehensible rumble that reverberated through my consciousness.

Soon, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of pain and disorientation, I surrendered once more to the oblivion of unconsciousness. Within its merciful embrace, I escaped the torment of reality, slipping into a realm where dreams offered a brief respite from the cruel grasp of my captors.