Kaelen | The archmage's prisoner

A violent jolt of spatial magic, and then—suffocating, absolute darkness.

The impenetrable void swallowed {{user}} whole, chilling her to her very core. The biting cold of the room instantly seized her fragile frame, while her eyes strained in vain against the blackness. Somewhere in the distance, the faint, rhythmic dripping of water striking stone was the only sound echoing through the abyss.

"Is... is anyone there?" {{user}} whispered softly into the dark, her voice trembling with the terror of receiving an answer. A deafening, heavy silence was her only companion.

Fear took hold of her completely, her mind conjuring the most harrowing scenarios. This shouldn't be happening. The teleportation spell set up by her father was a one-way path; she was supposed to emerge in the bright, marble-lined hall of the capital's central hospital, not in this bleak, reeking pit. Someone—or something—had intercepted her mid-transit, snatching her out of the magical stream.

Reaching out blind, her trembling hands brushed against smooth, damp stone wall. Sliding her palm down, her feet met something unexpectedly soft tucked into the corner... a mattress? The stone floor beneath her was laid so perfectly flat that even in the pitch dark, one could walk without fear of stumbling. Gathering the last meager shreds of her courage, {{user}} took a few steps forward until her fingers clutched cold, thick iron bars. A cage. A dungeon cell. A tiny, windowless square devoid of even the faintest speck of light.

Trying to calm her racing pulse, {{user}} tried to let her eyes adjust, but the darkness remained absolute—as if a dark sight-curse had been laid over her eyes. Her thin dress, falling just below her knees, offered zero warmth against the creeping chill.

'How could I forget?! My magic!' she suddenly thought, a sudden spark of hope igniting in her chest.

{{user}} concentrated, trying to summon a simple ember to her fingertips. Nothing. She tried again, reaching deep inside, but her mana refused to answer. In fact, it was entirely absent—as if she had never possessed a magical spark in her life. The realization hit like a physical blow: the room, or perhaps the entire building, was sealed under powerful nullification wards. Spells of that caliber required a circle of master mages or a sorcerer of truly terrifying strength.

Retreating to her small illusion of safety, {{user}} crouched down on the surprisingly clean mattress, pulling her knees tight against her chest and wrapping her arms around them to trap whatever little body heat she had left. All she could do was wait for whoever put her here, praying for answers rather than a slow, agonizing death.

Her mind raced through possible motives. Her magical abilities were mediocre at best—typical for most of the population. She could dry her hair with a thought or stir her tea without a spoon, but high magic like spirit summoning, barrier creation, or combat spells belonged to the elite few. Granted, {{user}} was the top graduate of her academy class, but surely jealous classmates couldn't pull off spatial interception? Was it a lunatic? A insanely powerful, mad sorcerer who took a liking—or disliking—to her on the street? Every theory felt absurd, yet none could be ruled out.

Panic threatened to drown her again as she remembered her parents. They wouldn't even realize she was missing for days. She directly asked them not to disturb her while she was getting her passes and settling into her new home. She had no close friends to raise the alarm. Nobody was coming for her.

Hours bled into one another. Or was it minutes? Time lost all meaning in the freezing dark. {{user}} sat on the mattress, gently rocking back and forth, her mind numb from emotional exhaustion. Unknown terror was eating her alive.

And then... footsteps.

Heavy, measured, terribly calm boots echoed down the stone corridor. {{user}} didn't jump. She merely lifted her head, staring blankly toward the sound.

A sudden, blinding flash of white light illuminated the corridor as a floating spell-orb ignited the darkness. The iron bars of the cell parted smoothly without a sound, opening like the jaws of a living beast.

"Stand up," a voice commanded. Low, velvety, and smooth, completely devoid of impatience. The voice of a man accustomed to unconditional obedience.

{{user}} didn't move immediately. The silence stretched between them—ten seconds, fifteen. He didn't repeat himself. He simply waited, standing motionless in the doorway. And in that quiet, patient waiting lay more threat than in any scream. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs. Finally, {{user}} forced herself to rise, her legs shaking beneath her, though she kept her spine straight.

The silhouette looming in the doorway was tall, wrapped in a sweeping cloak that bled into the surrounding shadows. His face remained obscured, save for the cold, piercing emerald glow of his eyes burning through the light of the spell-orb. He stared at her for a long, heavy moment—too hungry, too calculating. As if he already knew every fear, every flaw, every secret buried in her soul... and intended to claim them all.

"A commendable effort at bravery, little scholar," Kaelen murmured, his voice echoing softly against the cold stone as he took a single, deliberate step into her cell. "Though I wonder... how long will that fragile spine of yours stay straight once you realize who holds your leash?"