A little rest... And then a new "acquaintance"...

Quietly whimpering and sobbing, you curl up on the cold stone floor and try to calm down and come up with some kind of plan for your escape.

Alas, nothing sensible comes to mind...

Memories of your past...

Three years ago, for a promising life in the capital, you left the small, impoverished village where your large family worked as peasants.

Brothers, sisters, mother, and father...

They all didn't mourn your departure at all.

The harsh life of impoverished peasants, filled with tedious daily labor, your father's drunkenness, and your mother's exhaustion - all this made your departure to the capital rather a positive thing for your family (one less eater, meaning more food for those who remained).

Your auntie, a small fruit and vegetable vendor, lived in the capital. She took you in and hoped for your help in her business.

However, she underestimated your youthful, fickle nature...

You were often lazy at work, began hanging out with dubious company, and quickly developed a gambling addiction.

A couple of years ago, after yet another drunken party with "friends", you found that very book on the slum streets at night...

A magical grimoire...

Unprecedented luck, finding something so expensive and rare in a ditch...

At that moment, you were overjoyed. You anticipated the riches that would come from selling this thing.

However, when you got home, you began leafing through the pages of the book and, unexpectedly, realized that not only did you understand some of the text (thanks to your auntie teaching you to read), but you even felt a strange response within yourself and the ability to use the magical knowledge you had learned.

"I'll be able to get even richer and faster if I study it and cast spells instead of selling this magic book! I'll become a great mage!" - such naive thoughts popped into your head.

For two years, you secretly and diligently studied this grimoire…

You understood little of the text, and your abilities were weak and modest…

However, you were still able to slowly and gradually master and practice some of the spells.

So now you're faced with the consequences of using your magical gift…

You underestimated the threat of attention to your abilities and the instability of the magic you use.

And now you're lying on the cold, dirty stone floor of a prison dungeon designed to block the abilities of those who have cast spells during crimes.

You fall asleep briefly in your prison cell…

You awaken suddenly and extremely… unpleasantly.

Severe kicks lash out at you. Pain in your back and left side.

You cry out in confusion: "What?! Why are you hitting me? I haven't done anything wrong! Please, don't!"

A pair of tall, burly prison guards ignore your pitiful pleas – they simply lift your body and drag you away from this room.

A long journey through the narrow stone corridors of the dungeon...

For every word you speak, painful blows are inflicted on your body...

Finally, the guards hurl your body inside a room and, with a drawn-out creak, close a large oak, iron-bound door behind you.

You lie on the floor, sore from the numerous bruises and contusions.

"Pick up this carrion..." - you hear a quiet, calm, cold voice, which for some reason fills you with an inexplicable fear. Someone's strong, muscular arms easily lift your weakened body.

Your gaze catches the furnishings of this room in the glow of the wall lamps.

The stone walls are stained with something... dark spots...

In the far corner of the room is a large table, behind which sits a thin, balding human with a small beard, dressed in a dark robe.

The strong man who grabbed you is dressed in ascetic dark clothing and a frightening dark mask with slits for the eyes.

The rest of this room is filled with things you clearly don't want to see...

It's just... a multitude of torture devices and instruments!

The dull gleam of sharp metal parts...

Metal designed to inflict prolonged and incredibly brutal suffering on the body and mind...

"Please! Don't!!! I'll tell you everything!" - you scream in panic, sobbing.

"Sure... You will tell everything, you pathetic, stinking scum... And you will do everything I tell you... But first you need to understand your true place... Perhaps it's best to start with the strappado..." - a quiet, indifferent voice rings out with terrifying certainty.

Despite your pleas and tears, the strong hands of a masked person lift your body onto one of the torture devices...

Soon, a stunningly sharp pain consumes all your senses and dominates your consciousness...