The shattered crystal pieces hit the ground with a clear, ringing sound. Instructor Soraya drew a sharp breath before dashing towards Instructor Caarda. She caught the petite woman just as she stumbled backwards. Her staff, now lacking its crystal, escaped her grip.

  Instructor Caarda pressed her palms against her eyelids, leaning against Instructor Soraya for a few moments before muttering a thanks and stepping away. Her shaking hands collected the crystal that had broken into three pieces, then reached for her now powerless staff.

  A chuckle sounded in the silence, echoing as it grew into a laughter. The prisoner’s shoulders shook as he laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Instructor Soraya growled. She clenched her fists as she walked up to the metal bars, standing right in front of them.

  The man’s laughter subsided as he tilted his head. “Your desperation,” he said with a chuckle. “How you try and try and try, just to remove this!” He raised his hand ever so slowly, then tapped once on his helmet. “But you can’t.” He giggled. “You will never be able to.”

  “Awfully certain there, aren’t you?” Instructor Soraya turned her back and stepped away.

  “Of course I am.” The man’s voice was suddenly cold. He stood up, approaching the metal bars. “I am blessed by the Old Ones, their chosen – why wouldn’t I be certain?”

  “There is no blessing on you,” Instructor Caarda’s meek voice rang as she tightly clenched her fingers around the haft of her staff. “All I see is the weaves of your helmet – it’s blinding.” She looked away. “I’m afraid you are nothing but a madman with delusions of grandeur.”

  She turned towards the members of the imperial guard. “We’ll try again later, I need to think. Thank you.” She walked towards the stairs, only pausing momentarily as she noticed Midhir. She bowed her head, then wordlessly walked past him.

  The members of the imperial guard followed her, their cloaks trailing behind them, brushing against the roughly cut stone slabs. They also paused in front of him, bowing deeply before continuing on their way.

  “Well, well,” The man sat back down on the straw bed, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his legs. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He gestured towards Midhir mockingly.

  “Instructor, a word?” Midhir turned his gaze to Instructor Soraya.

  “You won’t succeed.” The man continued. “You can’t stop us.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Ignoring his ramblings, they left the dungeons.

  “Sivhe needs to rest a while,” Instructor Soraya let out a tired sigh.

  “Of course.” Midhir watched a group of four students as they passed by. He recognised them from Solus – they were first year students like him. “How many students from Solus came with you?”

  Instructor Soraya hesitated. “I think… two hundred and fifty.” She shot him a curious glance. “Why?”

  “Willow spoke with you already, I share her concerns.” His gaze caught a lone student. He was tall, and clearly older than Midhir. A second, maybe third year student. He was sweeping the floors with a straw broom. His back was hunched as he slowly moved across the hall. “I’d like to ask you to warn the students again to steer clear of areas they are not allowed in, and to not linger near their entrances.”

  “Sure, I can do that.” Instructor Soraya followed his gaze. “That’s William, a third year.”

  “Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “I must take my leave.”

  A raven circled the skies, above her as Circe pressed her palm against the small chalk monument. This one, unlike the others, was smaller than an ox cart, though its surface was riddled with old script. Chalk roots spread from its bottom, overtaking the wet soil that made up the forest floor.

  The chalk roots had pushed the forest back quite a bit. There was a rather spacious opening around the monument.

  “A hole in the ground, south of you. A lake?” The raven’s voice rang in her mind.

  With a click of the tongue, she stepped away from the monument, and marched southward. She almost immediately spotted what he was talking about – the chalk roots mixed with the roots of the Old Growth. Blue flowers bloomed on the dark brown roots, and she could hear the sound of water as the wind caressed its surface.

  “You can hardly call this a lake.” She commented. It looked more like a tunnel that was filled with water. Crouching at its edge, she looked deeper.

  “Oh.” Reality seemed twisted somewhat. The distances didn’t match. The veil was damaged badly here – worse than she first thought.

  “Can you fix it?” The raven cawed afterward in an attempt to scare off a few smaller birds circling around her. They scattered almost immediately, disappearing amongst the trees.

  “I can try,” she muttered with a scowl. “Where does it lead, I wonder…” she stretched her hand out, her fingers nearly touching the surface of the water. A small orb of crimson light gathered in her palm, then shot off into the water.

  She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to shift to the orb. She couldn’t quite see where it was, but in a way, she was aware of its surroundings.

  It flew through the water, soon leaving the awkwardly short tunnel, and found itself in a larger cavern – near its ceiling. It was also filled with water, though she could sense a small, round hole on the ceiling. Below, reality was even more twisted, though she feared allowing her mind to venture quite so deep.

  She ought to venture there herself. Her mind retreated, her senses returned to her own body and the orb of light vanished. Her eyes slowly opened, and her lips curled down as she glanced at her long, flowing dress. This was hardly the attire to go spelunking – especially in water filled caverns near Bareon.

  “I think I’ll have to go down there myself.” She told her companion who hand landed on the roots next to her. “Caves are hardly a place for ravens though. You should return to Arwen’s side.”

  The raven cawed. “Wouldn’t be the first time I followed someone into a cave. Besides, I was with the kid – I know where he went. You don’t.”

  He was right.