The harsh sensation of the hood returned, and my body felt sore and spent. My throat was so dry it was painful, overpowering any hint of hunger I might've had. My hands remained tied, and the hood still covered my sight, but my legs were unbound, allowing me to move. The moist dirt sensation came back to my senses quickly. The stagnant humid air around me was tasteless, except for a slight wetness.

My body creaked and groaned as I walked around, my feet sensing the ground's dampness. The humid air hinted we might be below ground, perhaps higher up in one of the snow-capped mountains that surrounded the citadel once you left the lower valley. As you could imagine, my cell was cold.

I soon encountered what felt like iron bars. I had a strong urge to pull a drop of aura into my feet to use the touch domain and better perceive my surroundings. But until I figured out how to regain more aura, it would be best to keep what I have, even with these aura sealers. Worst case scenario, the small amount I had left could let me maintain an information channel through the touch domain for a brief period. Or maybe with a few more sessions with Mundara, I’d be able to figure out how to use aura perception better.

The iron bars had a noticeable chill I hadn't picked up on before. Likely, they'd been enchanted in some way. Enchanting iron bars just to keep prisoners? This base of the mages must’ve been here for years, at least. Just how long had they been spying on and kidnapping auramancers? What did they know? What about the elves? Were any here too?

The bars, when touched, would alert the guards as well. The cell walls, however, didn't have the same effect. Good to know.

"Finally on your feet, aura trash?" came a taunting voice from beyond the bars. "Eager for your interrogation? Don't worry; it'll be your turn sooner than you'd think."

Following his words, a muffled, high-pitched scream pierced the air. How had I not heard them before? This hood over my head was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that it would be easier to focus here. A curse in that it prevented me from gathering information and adapting better to my environment.

The scream hinted at something crucial, though - I wasn't alone. Could an escape be possible if we somehow banded together?

Before that could be possible, I’d have to figure out my situation, where they were, and how to communicate with them. Unlike in the mindscape, though, I couldn’t talk.

Then, a thought struck me: I had nature’s essence from the brand. I didn’t know how to use nature’s essence from the brand effectively, but I did know it would heal damage far faster. What if I concentrated that power up through the hood and to my voice box? I’d have to leave the tongue alone; it could be risky, especially if they planned on removing the hood soon.

With nothing to lose, I channeled the energy from my brand to my injured voice box. A comforting sensation rippled through me. However, a force inhibited the healing, or rather, like it tried to. My body was good at rejecting mana, which did have the advantage of helping me resist other people’s malignant mana, like the kind that had been infused into the needle. Sure enough, combining the blessing and nature’s essence soon pushed out that mana and even eradicated it.

The healing of my voice box was underway, but it would require time. Unfortunately, as a mage guard made clear, this time to myself was up.

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"Listen up, aura scum," he barked, "The bars are about to open. Make no sudden moves. I don't care about Velexa's orders. Try anything funny, and I'll reduce you to ash."

With my current abilities, I had no intention of doing anything but going along with their game. What I needed was time and information.

By the bars letting me out, they meant so literally. The bars didn’t shut open or close. No, they literally parted for me, as if it were a living thing. The ancient texts I'd read occasionally described enchantment as 'breathing life' into an object. Experiencing the bars shifting and sensing their movement beneath my feet gave me a newfound understanding of that concept.

Immediately upon exiting the holding cell, guards positioned themselves on either side of me. Based on the feeling, two black iron shackles were placed over my wrist. They wanted to make sure my hands were useless. The material felt the same as those iron bars in the holding cell. Likely, it wasn’t a coincidence; what other function did this material have? Why always have it on or around me?

With an abrupt kick to my legs, they signaled me to move. You could’ve just said so. Was there really a need for violence? Then again, they are the sort to kidnap people. Could you expect any decency? Apparently, I wasn’t moving fast enough, so one gave me another kick. The other guard was more amicable; he only slapped my back.

“Get a move on, aura scum. Dragging out the walk only makes our team more irritated. Maybe you’ll be lucky, and Grand Mage Velexa will be present?” They sure had a hearty laugh out of that.

The walk was disorienting. The lack of any natural senses made even balance hard at times. You have no idea how reliant you are on hearing or sight for balance until it’s truly gone. Well, at least I had no idea. Yeah, thanks a lot, Ulysses. The so-called 'special mark' has done nothing good so far. I wondered if anyone was searching for me back at the citadel. But if there were other captives, expecting rescue without doing anything myself was probably just wishful thinking. Perhaps the others weren't from the citadel?

Then there was another question: how did they isolate and find me so quickly? There was no way they could just so easily spy on me. Was there a tracker? A spy around the citadel? Who would even know that I would go to the mindscape hall? Could they have been just waiting for me to go to a spot like that?

This was becoming a habit of mine, asking too many internal questions when I feared what was coming next. Those screams had died down, but that likely just meant I was next. They only seemed to have one room for their….” questioning.”

There was a metallic clang, suggesting a door was being opened. Then, right after the clang, despite my suppressed sense of smell, the odor of dried blood hit my nostrils. This might be Layla’s heaven if she liked blood as much as she claimed.

It's not the time for thoughts like that. Something was wrong with me.

"Ah, our special guest has arrived," a voice said, pulling me out of my thoughts. "I trust you've enjoyed your stay in our luxurious isolation cell?"

The voice was old and slightly deranged sounding. If I had to put an image to the voice, a twisted old man would be the perfect fit. There was, of course, silence after that question. It's hard to answer when you can’t speak.

“Well, aren’t you going to answer me? We will have to do something about your lack of manners, won’t we?”

The deranged old man was just fishing for an excuse to do something. There was no way he didn't know I was mute now. My voice box wasn't even fully healed yet.

Then, furious, he roared: “Strap him in!” I was quickly secured with rough leather straps and chains. They placed me against a tilted wooden table. My heart was hammering in my chest; this was really going to happen. What kind of crazy situation did I get myself into?

Once I was strapped tight, the old man's voice echoed again. “Guard the door. I want no interruptions. Only Grand Mage Velexa may enter if she pleases.” I could feel his hot, unnerving stare on me. His voice was slow but brimming with an unsettling eagerness.

“Now, you and I are going to get very well acquainted, aren’t we, Falond Conmor? Who would’ve thought the Conmor’s would have another aura bug pop up in their line? A stain to the church.”

Shit.