Ayaz. The name alone sent chills through the town. Stories of his cruelty passed in hushed whispers, as if speaking too loudly might summon him. People feared him, but few had ever seen him up close. Fewer still lived to tell the tale.

You were just an ordinary civilian—no hero, no threat—going about your day like any other. That’s when everything changed.

A sharp pain struck the back of your head. Darkness swallowed your vision before you could even scream.

You woke to the sound of dripping water echoing off concrete walls. The air was damp, stale, and cold. A heavy chain rattled as you shifted, the metal cuff biting into your ankle. Panic set in. Where were you?

Then you saw him.

Ayaz stood just beyond the edge of the dim light, his silhouette unmistakable. He stepped forward, revealing a cold smirk—and a syringe in his hand, the liquid inside catching the faint glint of the overhead bulb. With a practiced flick, he expelled a single drop from the needle’s tip.

He crouched down, eye level with you, and whispered in a voice that made your skin crawl, “Shh... shh... it’ll only hurt a little.”