As one world vanished, another was awoken by light.

Dean slowly opened his eyes to a very familiar scene: A dark, musky cage, filled with miserable souls left and right.
While water dripped from the rusting metal bars, one could only hear the muffled cries and grunts of pain coming from and echoing everywhere.

These were all once feared mages, and like Dean, they were captured and brought here with no opportunity for escape and no idea when and how they will die.
It has already been several years, and most people have lost their minds, some chose to go out on their own terms by suicide while others persisted in this apocalyptic limbo.

Accomplished mages didn’t necessarily need food or water, but retaining the quality of their physical body required mana, mana which was painful to reap since the cage somehow restricted its movement.

Even Dean felt his sanity slipping by the moment, but he fared far better than everyone else here, he could at least distract himself.
In his years at Grandtryst Dean often used dream magic to satisfy his hedonistic desires, but here in this hole of despair, dream magic served as a contrast to reality, a reminder of a better world.

And the good thing was an experienced Dream Mage, like Dean, didn't necessarily need to use Mana, since dreams are based on the conscience. Sure, Mana can help awaken and direct dreams, but unless he was trying to affect others he didn't need to cast anything.

As Dean raised his head footsteps came down the hallway, two ordinary guards with no mana signature brought another prisoner.
Many mages just silently stared at their captors, fury in their eyes, but this fury was as powerless as a campfire in a storm.

Some were too exhausted or had given up all hope, but others choose to scream, holler and castigate. And when the doors to the cage opened, they sprung up with the remaining energy they had to wrestle for their freedom.

About six mages swarmed the two guards, who already threw the newcomer into the cell. As they approached with staggering steps, the guards didn’t do much, they only threw their short swords down the hallway, in fear that due to a stroke of luck one of these crazed assholes would manage to grab it, and proceeded to beat up every single ruffian mage.

Like elementary schoolers swarming a college athlete, none of the starved mages managed to injure the guards, only themselves as the guards weren’t opposed to this exercise. “Oh, how the tables have turned," said one of the guards

The guards didn’t need much effort, one strike was enough to break a bone or two of these malnourished and old men.

Dean only watched on with an apathetic attitude, resistance needed a plan, not some random impulse.

The new prisoner, an additional companion from here on out, didn't seem too perturbed about his new circumstances, interestingly enough.
One could see his bones protruding underneath his skin while the skin itself was wrinkly and full of blemishes, yet this fellow had a youthful face, with long and flowing dark red hair.

Getting up he held his fingers to his chin, seemingly deep in thought.