2024-07-22 10:30:34
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Chapter 403
The air in the Forbidden Wing was thick, heavy with layers of neglect, dust, and residue of spells long past. Caster Spellbound moved through the corridors like a shadow, his boots silent against cracked stone, his robes brushing against walls that had not felt attention in decades. Ash hung in the air, suspended in deliberate swirls that seemed almost sentient. It twisted around him, catching on his sleeves and tracing the lines of his body, but it did not attack. It waited.He paused at the mouth of a chamber marked with a dozen incomplete sigils. The light filtering from broken windows painted the ash in muted gold. Here, the leyline threads converged, barely visible unless one knew how to see them. Caster’s eyes scanned, tracing the intricate lattice of Blackthorn energy woven beneath the Tower. The network pulsed faintly, as though aware of his presence.This was the root. Everything that had happened, the Ashfall, the Warden, the tether to himself, stemmed from this single p
Chapter 402
Caster’s boots echoed in the narrow corridor, though the sound felt almost swallowed by the Tower itself. The Forbidden Wing stretched ahead, a place no student or mage had wandered willingly for decades. Its doors weren’t sealed with polished wards or gleaming sigils; they were ignored. Neglect had woven them into obscurity, leaving only faint cracks and the occasional tremor of residual magic. Caster ran, each step measured yet frantic, aware that every motion left a trace behind him. Ash drifted in the air, lifted from the stone floor as though it anticipated him, and the faint scent of scorched parchment clung to the walls.He paused briefly beneath a broken archway. The corridor opened into a low-ceilinged hall. Here, the air shimmered with instability. Residual energy pulsed unpredictably. Lights in the torches overhead warped and twisted in mid-air, bending toward invisible currents, while the ash took on shapes, half-formed, flickering figures that rose and collapsed the i
Chapter 401
Caster staggered into the center of the SRC evaluation chamber, the iron and stone of the room pressing against him with a weight he didn’t immediately recognize. The wards along the walls shimmered faintly, each glyph suspended in midair like a captive insect. He could see the soul-stabilization anchors flickering in the corners, the oath-dampeners humming faintly along the floor. Nothing about this was routine.Lysane stood across the room, her posture formal, arms crossed, but her eyes betrayed tension. Kael Dorn hovered beside her, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to draw a purifying sigil but restrained himself. Caster’s eyes swept the space, noting the circle drawn around him, every line and curve precise, every intersection reinforced with double-layered containment wards.“Start,” Lysane said, her voice steady, measured.Kael’s hands twitched, the air around him brimming with suppressed force. “You’ve left us no choice, Caster. We can’t.”“You’ve already made the choi
Chapter 400
The chamber was quiet when Caster arrived. Too quiet. The SRC messenger had been insistent but polite: “Archmage Spellbound, your presence is requested for an evaluation. No exceptions.” The note was sealed with multiple waxes and sigils. He had followed the instructions without hesitation, curiosity tickling behind his practiced calm.But now, standing at the chamber threshold, Caster felt the subtle hum of tension in the air. The walls, polished obsidian framed by latticed brass, shimmered faintly with stabilizing runes. Nothing about this room was casual. Even the chairs seemed weighted, carved with soul-thread anchors and layered with oath-dampeners.Caster stepped inside. He counted silently, noting each ward, each anchor. The SRC rarely overprepared for a meeting; their tools were subtle, surgical. But this? This was an armory disguised as an evaluation chamber.Lysane stood at the center of the room, arms folded. Her eyes tracked his every movement, not with hostility, but wi
Chapter 399
Caster woke to silence. The kind of silence that presses against your ears until you think you might shatter. He opened his eyes to the gray wash of morning light spilling through the high, narrow windows of his quarters. The curtains were drawn back unevenly, one side pulled clean, the other hanging at a crooked angle. Dust motes floated lazily, suspended as though time itself had slowed in the room.His throat was raw. Each breath scraped like stone against his vocal cords. He tried to speak, even a whisper, and found only rasping silence.His hands came up first, almost by habit, and froze midair. Ink-black runes traced across his fingers, the backs of his hands, even curling up onto his wrists. The patterns were sharp, precise, deliberate, too precise to be a tremor of panic or sleepwalking. Every line was a careful, intentional mark, yet he could not remember placing a single one.Caster’s chest tightened. A sudden, familiar pulse ran through him, the tether. He had felt i
Chapter 398
Caster lingered at the edge of the Subterranean Archive, his boots crunching softly over ash-stained stone. The torchlight flickered across layered glyphs pressed into the walls, their subtle pulses echoing faintly beneath the floor.Every step drew him closer to the fragmentary text that had been waiting centuries for him, or someone like him. The sealed tome lay open on a pedestal carved from obsidian, pages floating in suspended motion, refusing to settle as if they were resisting gravity itself.Kael Dorn stood behind him, arms folded, eyes sharp beneath heavy brows. He had not spoken since they descended, only watching, a silent sentinel. The tension between them was a tangible thing, unspoken, coiled around the chamber like a living thing.Caster’s hands hovered over the first page. The script was layered: multiple eras superimposed over one another, a palimpsest of warnings, instructions, and omens. The letters shifted slightly under his gaze, rearranging themselves in resp
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