Jon woke up to the sound of someone kicking down the door. He didn’t even have time to raise his head before being forcefully dragged out of bed and thrown to the floor, his whole body protesting in pain. 

Two academy guards restrained him, their heavy gauntlets pressing down on his wrists and shoulder blades, while the third one, an Ashen, watched. “Student Jon of Rochdale,” he said in a loud, authoritative voice. “You’re under arrest for the attack on lord Garrel Vypren, lady Ireyne Krey, and student Marcyl of Southfort. Take him away.”

With ease, the two academy guards lifted him up to his feet and pulled him out from the room.

Standing at the entrance to their rooms, other students watched as Jon was dragged away. Now they show their faces. To watch the halfbreed getting arrested.

He was taken to the end of the hallway. down the flights of stairs, and through the entrance hall.

“Jon? Jon!” On his way back to the dormitories, Nevil saw Jon being taken away and ran towards him, Bella following closely behind. Aeron and Deon were nowhere to be seen. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Please step aside, my lord, we’re conducting academy’s business,” the Ashen said, his tone of voice noticeably softer.

“Garrel attacked me, and I fought—” Jon felt as if his arms were being crushed as the guards holding him tightened their grips.

“Be silent!” the man snapped at Jon. “This halfbreed has cowardly attacked three fellow students, two of them of noble birth. They all had to be taken to the healers. He’ll be held in the dungeons until His Grace passes judgment.” With that, he gestured to the guards, who resumed dragging Jon away.

“Don’t worry, Jon, we’ll find a way of getting you out,” Bella shouted out. 

Jon appreciated the sentiment, but he doubted they would be able to come up with anything. This was a tragedy of his own making. He had the opportunity to not fight back against Garrel and his cohorts but instead chose to give them what they deserved. If there was something that he knew by now, it was that people rarely get what they deserve.

The guards led him north, past the feasting hall and where Jon rarely ever went to. The northern side of the academy was reserved solely for the private student residences and for the main building, meant for the teaching staff. It was where Professor Willow and her brother did their alchemic experiments, for instance, before they were indefinitely banned.

The building was noticeably smaller than either the Sunrise or Sunset buildings, ignoring the grandiose facade in favor of efficiency. 

The guards opened the entrance door, barely large enough for the three to pass through, and they were met by two wizened men waiting there.

The first one had a thin frame, a hunched back, and brown eyes partially hidden by droopy eyelids. The most noteworthy thing about him was his earthen brown robe, signaling his position as a Geomancer.

By his side, arms behind his back, was none other than the headmaster himself. “So it has finally happened. I knew it was only a matter of time until you showed your true colors. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, I’ll be contacting His Grace so that he may expel you as well as deciding what will be made of your rotten life. If we’re ever so lucky, it won’t be long before you meet the headsman.”

Jon offered no response, knowing full well that it would make no difference. Not to these people. They had already made up their minds about him.

The headmaster turned to the geomancer. “Put him in the black cells,” he told the geomancer who nodded in response. 

With a wave of his hand, the geomancer removed the tiles off the floor in front of him, revealing the stone blocks underneath. Next, he removed most of the stones themselves, leaving just one floating in the center of the dark hole. “Let us go,” he said in a low voice before jumping on top of it. 

The two guards holding Jon followed suit, leaving only the headmaster and the Ashen behind. The next thing he knew, there was a sinking feeling in Jon’s stomach as the stone block plunged down into the darkness. He counted the seconds as they fell, thirty in total before it began to slow down. Just how far underground were they?

The sound of footsteps against solid stone echoed through the dark tunnel — or at least Jon thought it was a tunnel — as the Geomancer started walking. “Follow after me,” he told the two academy guards.

It seemed that just like Jon, they were unable to see anything. The only thing to be heard was the sound of their footsteps. If there was anyone else down there, they were making sure not to make a single sound.

“Stop,” the Geomancer ordered. There was the clinking of metal followed by what Jon assumed to be the scrapping of a key sliding into a keyhole. It turned, rusty hinges squeaking open soon after. “There, you can put him inside.”

The two guards pushed him forward, his broken forearm flaring in pain as it banged against a metal bar. Once inside, the door was locked shut behind him. 

Footsteps sounded out as the three of them walked away, probably back to above ground, leaving him alone in the dark.

After a few minutes of waiting to make sure that he was truly alone, Jon began casting a Mage’s Light so he may get a hold of his surroundings. As he began to chant, he once again found himself inside the ocean of blue mana, but it felt different somehow. The normally always flowing mana was stopped in place this time, as if frozen solid. 

When the chanting came to an end, the mana remained locked in place, and Jon found himself back at the completely dark cell. The spell didn’t work. Something prevented it from being cast, likely triotium all around.

That would explain why the academy guards followed the Geomancer to the underground when, in theory, he should be able of restraining Jon by himself. Without his magic, he was just an old man, his body cultivation far too decayed to pose a threat.

Jon extended his hands and grabbed the metal bars. They felt rough from rust, but still too strong for him to break. Even if he somehow managed to get out from the cell, he’d still need to dig up through God knows how many meters of stone.

He turned around, his back against the metal bars, and began walking to take the measurements of his cell. He only managed three steps before his hands touched the wall in the back. Side-to-side, it was even smaller, just two steps from one wall to the other.

The air smelled both stale and of blood, though the latter was likely due to his broken nose. The only sounds he could hear were from his heartbeats. The only thing he could do was wait in the dark.

JohnnyKbca

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