The dark cellar felt colder than before. Heavy stone walls oozed moisture, and the suppression runes etched into the archway glowed with a dull, sickening yellow light.
The guards threw Kyle onto the stone floor, the heavy iron door slamming shut with a deafening thud. Three distinct bolts slid into place, followed by the faint hum of reinforced magic locking down the room.
Kyle lay on his side for a long moment, struggling to draw air into his lungs. Every rib felt bruised, and the amber crystal under his shirt was scorching hot against his skin.
[Kyle, listen to me,] Snow's voice cut sharply through the haze in his mind. Her tone lacked its usual robotic detachment; she sounded genuinely panicked. [Your internal mana network is heavily fractured. That outburst in the courtyard used up the last of your reserves. If the entity pushes one more time, your body will reject the seal entirely.]
