(The Weissberg Estate - North Tower)
Amaryllis slammed her fist against the heavy oak door, her hand glowing with the pale blue light of her [Rimefrost Seal].
"Open!" she screamed, no longer the composed Duchess-in-training.
Ice spread across the wood, jagged and sharp... but the door didn't break. The runes etched into the stone frame flared with a suppressing red light, eating her magic. The Script—and her father—had prepared for this.
She gasped, stumbling back. Blood dripped from her nose, hitting the cold stone floor. The backlash of using high-tier magic in a suppression field was tearing her mana veins apart.
"I won't stay here," she hissed, wiping the blood away with the back of her hand. "I won't go back to being a doll."
She looked at the barred window. High above the estate, she was isolated. But she wasn't broken.
(The Royal Dungeon - Deep Cells)
(Silvie's POV)
It was well past midnight when the heavy iron door to the cell block creaked open.
