The force of his escape had scattered stones, sand, and chips of wood all across the circular cellar he was now standing in. He could barely see his own hands as he slowly but surely took his surroundings. His bare feet were cold against the floor, the stone wet and bumpy, hastily hacked out of the cave he was standing in. This, combined with the lack of windows, showed that his apprentices had kept this room hidden from the world. Nothing in this room pointed to him, the prisoner who they kept inside. He crossed his arms and sighed. His students must have thought that the victory over him was important, so why was there nothing that the world could remember him by? Truly forgotten and left behind.

After a few minutes his eyes got used to his surroundings, allowing him to find a way out. With a few steps he reached the stairs, which led to a heavy wooden trapdoor, its hinges rusted, firmly attached to the walls on either side. Their strength didn’t matter, however, as the wood was old and quickly crumbled as he pushed against it. With his hands, he pushed his body through the door, finally leaving the circular room that had been his prison for centuries.

There was almost no room between the trapdoor and the wall opposite it. From its size, he could only conclude that the apprentices had built this room to house only the trapdoor, hidden from the world on the other side. It took a while before he recognized that on the right of the wall the stones differed slightly from the others, and as he pushed, he stepped inside a familiar room.

He yelled and smashed his fists against the wall, kicking his feet against the first thing he could find, the desk in front of him. He ignored the pain of his toes smashing against the solid wood. Those vile people had imprisoned him in his own castle, behind the room he once called his study. He grinned; it was almost ironic.

Then, he felt the wind dancing around him, the chilly breeze igniting a bliss that pushed his anger away. He closed his eyes and let his body feel a sensation he had missed deeply. The feeling of wind against the skin, the touch of wood below his feet, the cold stone of the heart when he dragged his hand across it.

When the feeling of bliss slowly went away, he looked around again. His former castle had seen better days. Time had destroyed some walls; the few that were left struggled to keep up with the weight of the second floor. The windows had also deteriorated; their broken glass shattered across the floor below. In addition, weeds, bushes, and trees had colonized the castle, choosing it as their new home. Their leaves had all shaded of reds and browns, and together with the wind, clarified that his return to the world was in the autumn.

His steps echoed through his study as he walked around. Pushing the fallen bookcases upright, returning them to the place they had once been. The elements had worn out the beautiful decoration of the wooden floor of his study; only some of its outline was visible. The books that had occupied the room scattered across the floor, most of them withered, others stolen or blown away. He wondered if scavengers had taken an interest in his belongings or that his apprentices had made sure that they had hidden the castle, his knowledge kept from the world outside. Carefully, he sat down in the chair in front of his desk, which broke with a loud snapping sound. As he lay on the floor, the anger in him returned, annoyed that such a beautiful building was discarded because of the actions of its master.

Still, he was almost positive that they hadn’t discovered all of his secrets. A wizard of his caliber knew he should preserve some of his knowledge, accessible only to those worthy to see it. Most of his magical expertise he shared with his apprentices, but he didn’t entrust them with some of his magic. Instead, he had written it down into 5 magical tomes which he had hidden in places across the castle. He had called them the volumes of Ankhun. It was probably self-centric to name tomes of knowledge after yourself, but he was the first one to actually study magic, so he felt he deserved to name them so.

He pushed himself upright again, touching his sides; he was sure that the fall had bruised him. It didn’t matter; he brushed the pain aside and left his study, mapping out the way to his books in his head. Because of the decay of the castle, the path he knew so well had turned unfamiliar, so he had to dig deep into his memory to find the exact location of his books. After walking for a while, he turned into yet another corridor. He paused, turning his body around and marching to the middle of the stone hallway.

With a grunt, he pushed some large stones out of the way until he stood face to face with the wall in front of him. His hand traveled across the individual pieces that made up the wall until he reached one that was slightly looser than the rest. With his other hand he pulled some of the greenery out, making him able to remove it. It revealed a small enclosure, protected from the outside elements by a magical dome. He was positive that the magic shielding the books held, since the same force had prevented even him from escaping. As he removed the leathered bound book from its hiding place, he smiled. It was a smart choice to hide them in plain sight; secret rooms or largely decorated places attracted the thieves, distracting them from the real value inside the castle.

The second book was close to the first one, and in his excitement he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings. With an enormous bang, he fell face down on the floor, as something on the floor had trapped his feet. His hand grabbed some ivy that was growing on the wall, which allowed him to push himself upwards again. He was panting, and his face frowned as he searched for the culprit who had made him trip.

When he realised his feet were stuck inside the ribs of a skeleton, he leaned forward, studying the white bones for any damage. Strangely enough, the remains were still intact, no bone broken. He rubbed his hand and smiled, as his anger was gone immediately. This poor explorer could be of some use to him.

With the skeleton in one hand and the book in the other, he returned to his study, placing the collected items next to his desk. With their weight gone, he returned to his task of collecting all his tomes. Only one of them was directly accessible; for the others, he had to work to reach their hiding places. He pushed stones aside, removed growth, and for the last book he even had to push his entire weight against a wall, which had fallen onto the one opposite it, which contained his precious book. Even with the cool temperature, his head had turned red; his breath turned heavy.

Once he had collected all five of the tomes, he returned to his study. As he stared at the multiple rays of light creeping through the many holes in the walls, he realised he had to do something since a broken room was hardly a place fitting for him to live in. With his hands, he shoved some dirt and debris from his desk and slowly he placed the books on it, careful to not damage them in either way.

He inhaled, reading his muscles and body as he concentrated on all the large stone pieces first. Using the energy of the small breezes of air around him to reduce the energy he needed to execute his magic. With his power, he pushed against the stones, forcing them to return to their original places. As they rolled into position, they closed the holes in the surrounding structure, blocking the light. Now, the only source of light came from the large, broken window behind his desk. Using the same winds, he pushed his desk and bookcases into place, returning them to their original locations. Then, he used the water inside the decaying wood and forced the cells to split again, restoring the oak to its original colour. The process forced the insects living in them outside as their original homes disappeared. He shook his head as he realised that the study was still far away from its original beauty, but he didn’t want to deplete his entire magic supply. It was more important that he had a place to stay and that his books were safe from the outside elements.

As the orange rays of the sinking sun poured inside, blinding him in the process, he realised he had forgotten to repair the glass. Quickly he used the pieces that were laying on the floor to mend the window, removing the last opening where the elements could find an invitation inside. Then, he looked after his more mundane needs. He collected firewood from the surrounding vegetation and started a fire in the stone heart which was built on the left of his desk. He used the fire stones he found in a drawer, not wanting to waste any magic, but he did not mind, finding comfort in these simple tasks. Then he left the castle to visit the woods outside, collecting chestnuts and water from the river that flowed through the old forest. He roasted the chestnuts across the fire; the crackling sound was as welcoming as he sat down in his chair again, this time not falling on the floor. His eyes became heavy, and he smiled, realising that he had completed his return to the world.

After eating, he moved the books to the middle of his desk and placed the skeleton in front of him. With the boring tasks out of the way, it was time to start on his actual plan. His apprentices needed to learn his last lesson: revenge.