Unfamiliar passage.

Creatures captured. Punished. Their chest pounding as they breath heavily. Squashed between a flat wooden boulder and a shimmering glass. There was no escape. The cell was surrounded by barriers of gliding, sealed in prison by mechanical gates and poisonous sticky substances secured the gaps. Been engraved with faded historical patterns, distracting the unseen feeling of lament from the creatures. Even if they were able to move around, the chance of survival was slim, as they were then.

What can this be?

It can see what is out there and what is out there can see it. It sways with the rhythm of whom it listens to. It crashes to the inexistent edges. 'It' is a sort of a cluster of invisibility but with powers to regenerate 'him'. Those who are chosen are kept at the bottom, near the dark tunnel, to exit to the unknown. The rest honours them with grace with the traditional ritual. Youngsters are kept at a safe distance away from the occurrence whilst then elderly and the adults begin the process. Carefully, they go around in twirls like a hurricane, resulting those who are chosen to sink to the bottom, reaching to the darkness of tunnels. The beat stops and a part of it is gone. It shrinks and shrinks and shrinks, without knowing what is happening. Those chosen starts to flow in 'him' like a water fountain defying gravity. Entering the suffocating atmosphere, they enlighten the air with oxygen and strength. And that is the last of them..