School of Creation ; SetoSolace

| 27 | (NEW)

***NEW VERSION***

You don't know what you're getting into.

Seto wakes up the next morning in a cold sweat, panting. He's tired from flying, so of course he'd wake up late. He recognizes his room immediately, then sighs with relief. The open window besides him sends a cool breeze past his body, tumbling throughout his room. He tosses the sheets onto the floor and snaps his fingers. The bed makes itself.

Six days. He had six days to find Jason.

He's being closely monitored by the Headmaster, as well as his underlings. He's been instructed not to leave the castle without an escort and hell, he can't even roam around without permission. The Headmaster claims it was for good measures, but Seto can see right through his façade. Obviously he knows the brunet's up to something.

So, he strolls out of his room. There stood a servant, no older than he is, waiting to escort him to the dining room for breakfast. Honestly, that smile spread across his face is degrading in the sense that even a servant had more permission to wander around. "Ready for breakfast, Prince Harvey?"

How he despises being called Prince.

"Indeed," he nods monotonously.

"Here, let me escort you to—"

"There is no need," he interrupts, raising a hand to his face. "I'm fully capable of walking there myself."

The servant pales up as if he had just witnessed a ghost arising from the floor below their feet, "A-Are you sure? Your father had strict orders for you to be escorted—"

"Look, I honestly could regard whatever my father said to you as a bore. I do not need to be escorted. Do you hear me?" Seto snaps in an attempt to be as intimidating as possible.

"Y-Yes sir," the servant nods as he scurried away. The brunet shakes his head, chuckling to himself.

He heads down the stairwell and instead of going forwards into the dining hall, he pauses. He assumes that if the Headmaster were to hide something, surely it would be underground in a basement of some sorts. So, he heads left, down the winding hallway that held all the guest rooms. The lit candle stick flames danced around him and the haunting paintings of all his ancestors caused shivers to be sent down his spine.

Rarely anyone goes down this hallway, visitors are rarely anticipated. It's unkempt, clearly anyone can see that. Candle wax drips on the shaggy carpeting, cobwebs hang in the air, and dust travels to every speck of open space. The hallway seems endless in the sense of how long it was; surely it never was going to end. The deeper he went the less candles were lit. He couldn't risk using his Sorcery to lighten up the place; his father would sense it immediately. He takes the last lit candle stick from the wall and uses it as a torch to see. Obviously the Headmaster hadn't thought far enough to cast some sort of hex to prevent his curious son from investigating the secrets that lay down the hall.

The hallway, much to his disappointment, ends at, what he could assume to be, a locked door. It's clearly older than he is. The type of wood it was made with had been outdated a couple centuries back. Instead of heading back, he decides to take an attempt with opening the door. He grabs the doorknob, cold and dusty, then proceeds to turn it. To him, it's like a horror movie. The door churns open and the sound bounces off the walls and down the hall.

He takes a step inside and wheezes. The air is tainted with dust and he finds it quite hard to breathe. It's pitch black, with only the candle flame providing some light. From what he could make out, it looked to be an office. He strolls forward, trying not to bump into anything, then sets down the candle flame on the desk.