[Raven’s perspective]
There are mories that do not return because you recall them, but because they refuse to disappear. They stand behind your eyelids whenever you close your eyes, waiting for the mont you weaken so they can return on their own. mories like these need no permission to visit you. And this was one of them.
My childhood, or what was left of it, ca back to . I lived back then with my mother and father, in a place I do not rember well but that was warm enough for its mory to remain in my heart. I could not rember my mother’s features precisely, but I still rembered the warmth of her hands. As for my father, he filled the place with the sound of his laughter. A simple man, but to he was an invincible hero.
For a mont, I believed happiness could last forever. But nothing in life lasts forever. When I turned eleven, my mother began to wither like a flower watered with tears instead of water. She hid her pain well at first, but over ti her condition deteriorated until she could no longer conceal it. I watched her helplessly.
One morning, she left this world after a long struggle with illness. She was lying on the bed, and before she closed her eyes for the last ti, she turned to my father and said:
"Live your life, raise our son, and forget ."
My father sat beside her in silence. He did not cry, only held her hand. He stayed there for hours. From that morning on, my father was no longer the sa. The man who filled the house with laughter and stories, who lifted high as if I were the most precious thing in the world, ceased to exist.
After my mother’s death, the debts began piling up quickly. It was as if life had decided to finish what death had started. My father sold everything we owned, the house, the shop, even his old tools, in a desperate attempt to save her.
When the money ran out, they ca. On a gray morning I still rember clearly, violent knocking echoed at the door. My father did not move. He sat on the wooden chair by the window. They broke the door and entered, three burly n whose faces held nothing but cruelty. They did not speak much. They only looked at , then grabbed harshly.
I scread, "Father!"
I cried, ran toward him, and stretched my hand in the air. But he did not move. He did not utter a word. He did not stand up. He did not open his arms. He did not say, "Take instead." He did not even say "No." He just stared in silence.
...
I was thrown into a rusty cage in the corner of an abandoned warehouse. The place reeked of mold, urine, and old iron. No one treated like a human. Not even like an animal, animals at least would be given a bowl of water or a touch of sympathy now and then.
At first, I scread and banged on the bars, calling my father’s na, begging them to open the door. But every ti they heard cry, one of them would drag out of the cage and beat with a long wooden stick until I lost consciousness.
Days passed, or maybe weeks. Then, one morning, they took out without a beating. I could barely stand. They led to an entirely white building. There, I was among dozens of other children.
In front of us stood a man whose face was half disfigured, with a deep scar running from his left brow down to his jaw. He extended his hand slowly, inspecting us as if we were dolls for sale at an auction. When he stood before for the first ti, he bent slightly and said:
"You’re special, so I’ll treat you the best way possible."
From that day, the real suffering began. They threw into a dark, furnitureless room with no window and not even a lamp. At first, I talked to myself. As the days passed, I began to doubt everything. I was no longer sure if I was even alive. I would sit there in the corner, my head between my knees. Just , and , and . I nearly lost my mind. Then, after a ti I could not asure, the door opened and that man entered, pulling a small ring from his pocket. The ring was made of black tal, surrounded by white engravings.
He raised the ring before and said:
"This is the Ring of Silence. An ancient system piece, holding the Authority of Silence. I will grant you the honor of obtaining this power."
He then muttered in a strange language. With each word, the engravings on the ring began to glow with a faint light. I felt as though sothing was violently forcing its way into my body. I rolled on the ground from the pain, trying to scream, but no sound ca from my throat. He watched , his face brimming with delight. After what felt like an eternity of tornt, the pain stopped.
He bent beside and whispered in my ear:
"You have successfully absorbed the Authority in its first stage. Congratulations, little one. Your chances of success were no more than five percent."
Then he rose, leaving lying on the ground.
...
For about a year, at least I think so since I had no way to truly asure ti, everything in that place was designed to strip you of your sense of it. During that year, I could not speak.
But recently, I began to regain the ability to talk, albeit faintly. I was alone. The children who shared my suffering vanished, one after another. At first, I thought they were moved to other rooms. Then I began to understand the bitter truth. Their faces haunted every ti I closed my eyes.
Over ti, no one remained except and a single girl, with long red hair. She was silent like the rest, but her eyes were different. They did not hold the lost look of the others. It was as if she was telling the world, and the mad doctor, "I am here, and I will remain."
I watched her from afar. I saw her sitting crouched, arms wrapped around her knees, her head tilted against the wall. We never spoke, but her re presence made feel I was still alive.
...
I had reached an inner certainty that I would never leave this place. Then the unexpected happened. On a day like all the others, I heard the creak of the iron door. But this ti, it was not the doctor who entered, nor any of the usual guards.
A boy about my age walked in. His fra was thin, and he wore a strange mask covering his entire face, a mask with a sorrowful expression. He scanned the room, then went straight to the red-haired girl. Once he stood before her, he raised his hand and removed the mask.
When his face appeared, the girl’s expression tightened and her eyes widened. Her face showed a mixture of surprise, distaste, and relief.
"You’re late." she said.
He shrugged as he fixed the mask back on his face.
"Oh, sorry, my imprisoned princess. I had no idea that finding a secret underground lab guarded by forty n, a security dog, and two lunatics would be so easy."
He then pulled a small tool from his pocket and began unlocking her restraints.
"Now, will you let save your life? Or would you prefer to stay here until our one-eyed friend returns?"
"How did you get past the guards?" she asked as the shackles fell from her wrists.
"Told you, no ti for questions now," he replied as he rose to his feet.
He turned toward the door and motioned for her to follow. I thought he would ignore . That they would leave, and I would remain here in the dark, as always. But the red-haired girl turned toward and said:
"Aren’t you going to free him?"
The masked boy stopped, looked at her first, then at , before saying:
"Don’t worry, the n from the Public Investigation Bureau will be here soon. They’ll take care of him, put him under the big lights, ask him a few questions, and give him a new life with a handful of official papers."
"The Bureau’s n? And what would bring them to this place?"
"Oh, that’s a long story. One best told in a café, after we make it out alive. That’s a promise."
"I’m not leaving here without him."
The masked boy muttered sothing I could not catch, then said:
"Fine, fine, noble knight. We’ll save the silent stranger too."
He ca closer, knelt on one knee, and pulled the small tool from his pocket again. He worked in silence without looking at . The restraints fell away from my hands. He then stood and said quietly:
"Now, let’s go."
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