The heavy footsteps of the military boots against the ceramic floor echoed inside the pavilion. On the second floor, in the farthest cell of the corridor, a young man was lying in bed, exhausted and drained, staring at the ceiling of the room with bloodshot eyes. He barely moved when the fully armed guard caught his attention by banging on the thick bars with the set of keys. 

“Come on, newbie,” said the guard. “It's time for another round.”

Completely devoid of any emotion but exhaustion, Ethan watched as the sliding gate gave way irremediably once the man inserted the odd key into the lock. Nevertheless, Ethan didn't move a muscle and remained to lie down helplessly on the thin, worn-out mattress, waiting, wishing that the guard would take pity on him upon seeing his physical and mental state, and leave that stifling room so that he could rest, or at least try to. But what the guard did, instead, was kick the edge of the bed and watch with terrifying patience how Ethan struggled to get back on his feet.

Once out of the cell, they walked through several corridors that became darker and more unkempt as they drew closer to their destination. Ethan walked in front of the guard with his wrists cuffed and his hands clenched in a fist. Occasionally he would glance backward, looking for a crack in the security guard's surveillance, for a moment of distraction, anything. There was nothing to be heard but the dry footsteps and the metallic clinking of his chains. It was as they turned around in one of the halls when he found it, that moment. It was only a second when another guard coming from the opposite direction saluted the one escorting Ethan. He curled his back forward and pretended to cough as he shoved the small magenta leaf he had been holding in his hand into his mouth. The last one he had left to scarcely resist what he was about to suffer.

In front of him stood, like a black hole eager to absorb everything surrounding it, the door of the blackest color Ethan could ever imagine. As solemn as it was indecipherable, the door seemed to defy anyone who dared to stand in front of it, whether out of courage or curiosity; especially if they were to break through its false impenetrability, and thus unravel what it was hiding.

All the feelings of fear, regret, and even surrender that Ethan had built up in his heart were tightening his chest and chilling his skin. While the guard was entering the access password on the identifier, Ethan stood there in silence and overwhelmed, looking at the floor as if it were the edge of a cliff, and he was inches away from falling, having nowhere to hold on to nor no one to lean on. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had been strong before, and he would also be strong enough that day. The moment for him to crumble was still far away.

The beep of the device indicated permission to enter the room and with it, the beginning of Ethan's anguish. He had already become accustomed to the metallic smell of blood and humidity coming out of there. In the middle of the small, dimly illuminated room, sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs at the interrogation table, a large man awaited him with an indecipherable expression on his face. Unlike the two military men who were escorting him on either side, the enigmatic man was wearing a suit and was the only one who did not look up at Ethan when he entered the room. Instead, he waited for the guard, whose posture had straightened and whose expression had become stiff, to sit Ethan on the chair in front of him. He then moved his head and set his eyes on him, hardened by something beyond time.

With just a small hand movement, he had the guard take off Ethan's handcuffs and immobilize his wrists to the cold metal table with other, thicker, shackles. His unquestionable authority over the people in the room did not go unnoticed by Ethan.

"I am pleased to be finally meeting you, face to face, Ethan." He gave him a cold look. "I must tell you that rarely does anyone succeed in resisting the General's instigation, which is why I'm here." There was no sympathy in his voice. "As much as I'd love to find out how you managed to endure his procedures, I'm unfortunately pressed for time." He sighed. "It was something more than curiosity about your methods that brought me here. You see, the thing I want to know the most is your purpose," the man tapped his fingers on the table without looking away from the prisoner. "I am truly intrigued to know what secret is so worthy of your obstinacy."

His intimidating stare and his apathetic facial expression were beginning to get to Ethan. Still, he did not respond. The tapping on the table stopped and the man's heavy exhalation made the atmosphere even tenser.

"Silence won't do anything for you." He leaned towards Ethan, who looked straight into the man's deep, dark, emotionless eyes. "You could start by explaining how your brother is involved in all this," he said and leaned against the back of the chair.

Ethan clenched his hands in fists and the immovable shackles pressed against the purple, bruised skin of his wrists.

"I've already said everything," replied Ethan, irked by the memory of his weakness.

"No, not everything," said the man. "I want to know in what way your brother is connected to that necklace. And why." Ethan tried to avoid his gaze. "You mentioned its potential. But I want to know how it was done."

"He's the only owner of the necklace and the only one who can make use of its power. There's nothing to be done about it," Ethan replied with a shaky voice.

"Oh, believe me, there is," the man said. "But it's not something you should worry about. What I want is the energy in that necklace," he added with impassivity. "Your brother is just a means to that end."

"What?" Ethan shifted restlessly in his seat.

"Theo, was it? Finding his location wasn't a difficult thing to do. For that, I have to thank you." The man rose and walked around the table to his side. "But he turned out to be quite elusive. It seems you have left out vital information since he appears to not be on his own."

"I told you everything I know," Ethan reiterated, sitting up, somewhat relieved that his brother hadn't been as unfortunate as he had been.

"You can do better than that," his voice became lower and more menacing.

Meanwhile, the leaf Ethan had eaten was beginning to take effect on him and the numbing sensation was already spreading throughout his body. It would last him long enough to avoid feeling the physical pain during the process of "interrogation". He decided to remain silent.

“Very well,” the man continued speaking. "Your choice.”

Without turning his back on Ethan, the man took a few steps back and nodded to the guard who had stood by the door. Automatically, the guard approached them and waited for his command.

"I have always believed that there is an opportunity for self-improvement in pain and suffering,” the man said as he stared at Ethan coldly. “I think there is a lot we can learn from that agony, and yet some choose to escape whenever they are faced with it." He took off one of his leather gloves. "What can be as formidable and knowledgeable as someone who understands and learns from their or even other's own misery and actually decides to do something about it? Those who consciously ignore it instead of dominating it, are the weakest. Don't you think so?” He tilted his head and put one of his hands on the table. "Have you never had an experience like that that could have scarred you? Say, in the past, maybe 15 years ago? Mhm?"

It wasn't mere curiosity that his voice conveyed, but provocation. And the consequences of coming to such a conclusion were reflected in Ethan's face, whitened by shock and concern. Still, he was careful to keep his head down and his eyes fixed on his hands. From the corner of his eye, he could see a change in the expression of his interrogator.

"Shall we relive it?" the man said.

Finally, Ethan turned his head to him, unable to utter even a single sound. Even though he had lost most of his sense of touch, the man's unsettling words and strong confidence were beginning to overturn the little courage he had mustered before entering the room. It was not for his body that he feared, but for his sanity.

"Seize him," his tormentor said to the guard, who followed the order by grabbing Ethan from his shoulders and pinning him against the seat back without much effort, despite the relentless resistance of the prisoner. "You might not have felt real pain before," the man raised his arm and opened his palm over Ethan's head as he cast a spell with his eyes closed. "But I can assure you, this time, you will."