Azara's eyes fluttered open, her head pounding as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was the hooded figure's purple mist overwhelming them. Now, she found herself lying on a cold, damp stone floor, the air thick with the scent of mold. She attempted to move, but a strange heaviness pressed down on her, making even the simplest movement an effort.
She panicked as she realized something was terribly wrong. She tried to summon her mana, to feel the pulse of energy that was always just beneath her skin, but it felt like it was out of reach.
Her mana was there, but it was weak, suppressed somehow. She reached up to her neck and felt a cold, metallic device clamped tightly around it. The device vibrated faintly, and Azara quickly understood what it was ment for—it was cutting off the flow of her mana, leaving her powerless.
