Withering Ambition

Alleviated Solitary

Ethereal walls of magic extended in a half sphere around the centerpiece of the cage. The cage no longer served its purpose, as it had been withered away by Kaeman's aura, but he chose to stay inside the cage nonetheless. 

He had no reason to move. No reason to struggle. Maybe at one point, right after he was captured, he had had enough strength to escape his confines. But not anymore. How he was alive, he did not know. His eyes were static and unmoving. All willpower he had had was drained from him.

The only thing that he did was to imagine his wife. Her image remained in his head, for he feared that if he let it leave, it would fade from his memories for good. He held out hope, even after so much time. How much time? He did not know. Surely it had been hundreds of years. Then again, everything seems to go slower when nothing is to be done.

Perception of time was optional, his prison was eternal. The only hope he had left was a fool's hope, that little bit of hope that everyone has that will always be there. Something inside you that always believes that things will get better, no matter how evident it is that they won't. And despite its foolishness, it is almost always right.

And this time, it was. The sound of footsteps sounded out from the distance, carrying with them the promise of freedom. Kaeman slowly rose off of the ground to see if his ears were playing tricks on him, as they had frequently done before. 

Pain shot through his body, it had surely been years since he had last been upright. What was left of his muscles, which wasn't much, cramped and cracked as they began to work once again. Straining his eyes to discover the source of the noise, Kaeman could make out a distant figure, trekking through the magical barriers, but there was something odd about them. 

He couldn't seem to detect them through any other means than by his eyes, which was odd, since during his time outside the cage, he had almost always been able to detect a foe by their magical aura. Perhaps his abilities had faded, he thought, but the fool's hope inside of him once again screamed out that perhaps they were using the scroll that he had shown Sarah so many years ago. 

He attempted to speak out, but his voice failed him. Dryness consumed his throat, pinching out any sound that attempted to emanate from his vocal chords. In light of this, he opted to simply observe the approaching figure by vision alone. 

Almost as if by instinct, magic flared to life around Kaeman, creating a maelstrom of dark mana to obscure his true visage from anyone observing from a distance. Kaeman was shocked. His magic was... still there... and so powerful... Powerful enough that visible ripples traveled through the air, imbued with magic. 

It was a certainty by now, that figure was utilizing his spell, the one he had given to Sarah. His magic failed to recognize that anyone was within his vicinity, even with his immense power. Once again, Kaeman attempted to speak, and this time he was successful. 

"You are using my spell."

The figure was now around 20 feet from the cage, and even so Kaeman was unsure that they had heard him, as his voice seemed shriveled and gravelly. After a few seconds, however, it was evident that they had. Panic seemed to briefly overtake them, before they restored themselves to a more dignified stance.

"Who are you, and why are you here?"

Kaeman tilted his central head at the figure, who he had now identified as a student of the Mage Academy by the uniform they wore. 

"My name is Necron,"

Clearly, the student was riddled with fear, as indicated by the lack of consistency in their tone of voice. Kaeman prepared to speak up to calm their fears, but was cut off by Necron speaking up.

"You killed my parents 17 years ago... My father was a war hero, and my mother protected me with her life!"

Kaeman took a few moments to comprehend the sentence, as after all, he hadn't heard someone else speak in who knows how long. Another few moments were taken to formulate a response.

"Is that why you are here, Necron?"

"No... You said I was using your spell, what do you mean?"

Remarkable, Kaeman thought. Most others would have run away in fear at the mere sight of him, but this young scholar was not doing so, and was even managing to hold a conversation.

"Fel magic, or a variant. I created that spell, and wrote the scroll myself."

Memories flowed back to Kaeman as he remembered the times he had had in the Spider's Den, creating his arsenal of spells and hexes. He was snapped back to his situation by Necron's voice.

"So the rumors are true, you were a human before, called Kaeman?"

"That is correct."

"Fel magic... What is it, and why do I have an affinity for it? Have you done anything to me?"

"I haven't. Well, at least not intentionally. I've never met anyone with an affinity for Fel magic, it is quite interesting. While I didn't invent that kind of magic, I was the first human to understand it, and utilize it. But alas, the Academy was against any sort of progress in the area of the dark arts, and by extension, against me."

Kaeman gestured for Necron to sit down with a dark tendril of magic. 

"I have much to tell you, Necron. And much to ask you as well..."

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