"Is this a fucking prison?"

"Seriously, dude, on top of everything else, I can't be doing with deja vu today. Just can it for a little while, please."

By my reckoning, I'd been awake for a few hours of Day Two of my captivity. It was becoming quite concerning that there was still no sight nor sound of whoever had used so much Qi to grab me that fucking Merlin had fangirled over it.

As a cultivator, I knew I was unlikely to need food or drink in the near future, but the very idea that might become a factor was disturbing.

It wasn't helping me stay calm that I kept remembering a school trip to Warwick Castle when Mr Haines spent quite some time explaining the whys and the wherefores of oubliettes.

To quote the Bearded Wonder - to be fair, I quite enjoyed his lessons. And he never set homework - the name comes from the French, oublier, meaning 'to forget.' We were touring Caesar's Tower, and he'd pointed out a grill on the ground, which covered a hole into which prisoners were apparently thrown and forgotten about.

I could really do without that memory right now.

Look, there's no sense getting all hyped up about it. Someone put you here. Someone will come and let you out. We'll fucking kill them when they do and take it from there. No bother.

"Mate, and I say this with all love, if you've got some sort of sword-dementia thing going on, can we deal with it another day?"

What the fuck are talking about?

I ignored him.

I needed a plan. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know who had taken me. I didn't know what they wanted with me.

By my reckoning, I'd been in here for a whole day, and no one had bothered to check on me, so I had to assume whoever had me knew I wasn't going to die of thirst in the near future. Maybe the rules over the captivity of cultivators were different? Like, no rush. We'll get to her in a few weeks.

Fuck. That would be brutal.

I can't hear Merlin. What the fuck happened to him?

"Fucking hell, Drynwyn. I can't be doing with this right now. We talked about this yesterday."

No, we fucking didn't. Why would we? He was in here yesterday. Remember, the whole Trial of Honour, Strength and Thought?

"Mate, I'm sorry to break it to you, but we've been in here for at least a day."

Have you had a blow to the head? We were just in the forest, then something grabbed you, and now we're here. I don't want to be rude, but life was much fucking simpler with Rhyddrech Hael.

"If you're about to reminisce about your time in Monsieur Whip's Dungeon, I will absolutely lose my shit."

There was a pause. How do you know about that?

"Because you told me. Yesterday. When we woke up here."

And I told you we've only just fucking got here!

And that was when the penny that had been falling for the last few minutes finally dropped.

"Oh, fucking hell."

And an evil cackle boomed through the cell.

*

I don't know how often the day was reset before my contact with my captor was upgraded from an occasional evil cackle to an actual conversation.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Once I realised what was going on, I'd got my short-hand explanation for Drynwyn down to a solid few words - "Stuck in a time loop. Losing my goddam mind. Don't be a dick" - and, to be fair, he was more or less rolling with it.

But then again, why wouldn't he? He couldn't remember the eight million times we'd had the same conversation. I saw a play once by some French dude or another, and the key line was that 'hell is other people."

I'm happy to confirm.

Although, the only thing that would have been worse than an eternity stuck with Drynwyn was the prospect of the same amount of time on my own.

So, it was swings and roundabouts.

"Look, this isn't the first time you've been through this. Don't be such a wetwipe. It's no different from when Merlin shut you away in a cave. Just do what you did then."

But even as I said it - yes, I've started talking to myself - I knew I was lying. This was nowhere close to what I'd been through before. Back then, I had Merlin talking me through what was going on and a proper training regime. Here, I was basically rotting away in a void.

By far, the biggest problem was that I was in such a state I couldn't settle down to do any proper meditation. Every time I tried to clear my mind, the crushing weight of being stuck in this cell settled upon me, and I was kicked straight out of my Artist's Studio.

Have I told you the story of Rhydrech Hael against the cannibals?

"Yes. You have literally told me every single story about Rhydrech Hael in existence."

Well, sorry, I'm sure. Some of us have only been here a few hours.

"And some of us have been here for what feels like most of our adult life. So, I'm sorry if I'm a touch grouchy."

You should try cultivating. I'm sure that would pass the time.

"Really? You think so, do you? Why hadn't I thought of that?"

I'm just trying to help.

*

Eeons past.

Stars formed and fell apart.

Keith Richards started to feel he was a bit past it all.

Drynwyn carried on telling me the same stories.

Eventually, though, it reached the stage that his voice became just so much background noise - like having the washing machine on when you were trying to get to sleep - and I was able to start to find some chill.

I inhaled deeply and tried to let my panic wash away. Drynwyn's voice was there, a steady drone that let other intrusive thoughts fade into the backwards if I focused on it.

Just when the story of Rhydrech Hael and the busty washerwoman, her husband and their four donkeys reached its climax - a real romantic tale, this one - I dropped inward to my Artist's Studio. For the first time in forever, I wasn't immediately kicked out. However, my Qi was a sorry sight. It lay dormant, thick and unyielding, all my purple paint long dried up upon an abandoned palette.

I focused, trying to get some life into this stagnant energy. To start with, though, it was akin to pushing against a stone wall. My Qi was immovable and, and this was the scariest thing, completely cold. Each effort completely drained me, and every attempt to get it moving left me more and more weary.

Oddly, though, the more exhausted I was, the easier I could let go of my terror. Basically, it seemed like I had only so much mental energy available at any one time. I could be tired, I could be horny, or I could be scared. But I couldn't manage all three.

And then, after an especially strong push, I felt the faintest quiver, a teasing promise of movement that vanished as quickly as it came. That livened me up, and I redoubled my efforts over the next few days.

It was hard work, this struggle to awaken something that seemed determined to remain asleep. My Qi was essentially me as a teenager.

I could almost hear the echo of Merlin in my head, mocking my frailty.

I wish.

I don't know how many days reset while I struggled with something that had come to me so easily before. However, I persisted - what else was I going to do? - driven by a flicker of hope that just refused to be extinguished. I'd been able to do this. I would again. And then I would free myself.

Then, during the preamble of how Rhyddrech Hael found himself naked in a bed with a Duke, a Baron, a Princess and a strategically shaved bear, I felt a subtle shift, and then, just like that, I was able to push my Qi around my channels again.

I don't mind telling you that I wept tears of relief. I'd been worried that I had not done so for so long, the paint would have permanently dried out. Things were sludgy, for sure, but slowly but surely, I could push things around again.

I was just starting to get excited about the giant fireball I would be putting through that fucking iron door when ...

"Well, well, well. I was not sure you were ever going to crack that. What on earth is Merlin teaching his apprentices nowadays? So, let's have a look at what you've got going on."

I felt my eyes roll back in my head as something sharp and icy started rummaging around in my brain.

"What a bizarre collection of talents. No. We can't be having this. Some sort of weird version of the Dark Kestrel Strike? Useless." I gagged in pain as something was ripped out of my soul. Then vomited when the same thing happened again and then again. "I'll leave you as that has some merit. But the rest of your foundation is simply trashy, unearned silliness. Really, I am so disappointed in this. I expected to see so much better. Perhaps it would be best to leave you a bit more time to reflect on some of your choices."

The voice retreated, leaving me in a pool of sick - that was surely biologically impossible considering the lack of food and drink - and several yawning open wounds in my spirit where skills used to reside.

"Is this a fucking prison?"