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Zakaria woked into the darkness, so complete it felt like a second skin. His arms ached where iron cuffs dug into his wrists, chaining him to the cold stone wall. Every breath was laboured, the damp air of the dungeon thick with the stench of mould and decay. He had no idea how long he'd been here hours, days, weeks. Time was as elusive as hope.
In the heavy silence, he heard a small voice, clear and innocent. "Why are you here?" it asked.
Zakaria blinked into the blackness, not sure if he was hallucinating or if the voice was real. He saw a child standing a few feet away, a faint glow surrounding him. The boy was no older than six, with messy hair and large, curious eyes. Zakaria felt a pang of recognition this was himself, from a long time ago.
"They left me here," Zakaria said, his voice dry and hoarse from lack of water. "The people I thought were my friends, my family."
The young Zakaria tilted his head, perplexed. "Why would they do that?"
Zakaria closed his eyes, seeing the faces of the six children he'd grown up with, the ones he'd trusted more than anyone. They'd lived in a camp on the outskirts of a desolate city, They'd sworn they were family, bound by the shared struggles of their harsh upbringing. But he'd always felt different as if a piece of him was missing.
"I wanted to know who I was," Zakaria said. "I asked questions they didn't like. About where we came from. About why we were all alone. I even tried to leave, to find answers. That's when they turned on me. they... betrayed me...."
The young Zakaria stepped closer, his eyes shimmering with curiosity. "But why would they chain you up? Don't they care about you?"
" I thought They cared," Zakaria replied, though his voice wavered with uncertainty. "But they were afraid. Afraid of what they didn't understand. I wanted to break away, to be more than just a part of their group. To find my own identity. But they saw that as a threat. They thought if I found the truth, I'd leave them behind. So they decided to keep me from finding it. they stoled my true self from me and BURIED IT "
Tears welled in Zakaria's eyes, though he quickly blinked them away. He had to stay strong, even here, even now. "They said it was for my good," he whispered. "That I'd be safer if I stayed in the camp if I didn't ask questions. But I knew... I knew I couldn't do that. I had to find out who I was. my father.... he... he..."
The child looked down at the chains, his small hands tracing the cold metal. "It doesn't seem fair," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It's not," Zakaria agreed, his heart heavy. "But it's the price I have to pay for wanting to be myself."

They cuted my wings; The young Zakaria stepped back, his glow dimming. "Will you ever be free?"
"I don't know," Zakaria said, a flicker of determination lighting his eyes. "But I'm not going to give up. I'm going to find a way out, no matter how long it takes. Because I can't be anything but myself, even if it costs me everything."
The child nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Then I'll be with you," he said, his voice growing distant. "Because that's who we are."
Zakaria felt the warmth of the child's presence fading, the dungeon's darkness pressing in once more. But he held on to the memory, the sense of who he used to be, and the knowledge that he couldn't let the chains define him. Even in the deepest darkness, he knew he had to find his way back to the light.
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