Lioran was sitting in his private study, a thick book with a black leather cover open before him.
A book about the structure of the soul and the methods ancient mages used to deepen their understanding of laws.
From the outside, everything seemed calm.
The evening light passed through the tall, arched windows and fell on the stone floor of the room. The blue flames of the magical lamps burned silently, and the faint scent of calming herbs rose from a small container beside the table.
Lioran wore his usual expression: calm, confident, and flawless.
His finger moved across the lines of the book every few moments, turning another page. But the truth was, in the past hour, he hadn’t read a single sentence.
His mind was elsewhere. Ryndor had gone out of reach.
His old professor was neither in his quarters, nor in his laboratory, nor responding to any of the secret messages.
The communication ring between them still existed, but no response came from the other side; as if Ryndor could no longer respond.
On the other hand, the murder cases that had been carefully closed years ago had been reopened.
The potion maker had been arrested. Morcan’s name had been raised in the council.
The tower leader had personally become involved, and at the center of all these events, Daniel and Serys had suddenly become investigators.
Those two had been far too active in the past few days.
They had gone to the secret archives, spoken with several professors and old witnesses.
Serys had received authorities that even some of the tower’s elders were normally denied.
And Daniel... from the moment he entered the tower, he had shattered a part of the order that had worked flawlessly for years, every single time.
He had obtained the tower’s legacy, destroyed the Trial of a Thousand Spells, and now he had intervened in the murder case.
And now, just as Lioran’s succession ceremony should have been in its final stages, the entire tower was caught in a crisis that smelled of betrayal and collapse.
Yet, Lioran was not panicked. Worried, yes, but not more than that. In his mind, he was reviewing all possible scenarios one by one.
He had planned for such a day from the beginning.
The potion maker could be introduced as the main executor, and with a few fabricated pieces of evidence, the case could be closed right there.
If Ryndor knew too much, he too could become a victim.
A few others might have to disappear as well, but that wasn’t something that worried Lioran.
In the worst case, the succession ceremony would be postponed by a few days or weeks.
The council would introduce a few scapegoats to calm public opinion, and after that, everything would return to its previous course.
As long as the founder was behind him, no one could truly strike him.
Even the tower leader wouldn’t dare openly oppose the will of a being who was one of the six original founders of the tower.
"The worst case is that the ceremony is delayed by a few days." Lioran turned another page of the book and concluded calmly in his mind.
Of course, he didn’t even think such a thing would happen. The tower would certainly try to resolve the matter within a few days and close the cases again.
After all, the guests would soon arrive for the ceremony.
At that moment, the sound of steady, heavy footsteps came from behind the study door.
Not one person, not two. The sound of multiple boots striking the stone floor of the hallway approached with perfect coordination and order.
Lioran looked up from the book. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, but his face remained calm.
A few moments later, the door opened without any request for permission.
The commander of the tower’s security forces appeared at the threshold.
Behind him stood several of the tower’s elders, two expert mages in restraint, three members of the judicial unit, and a group of security forces in black armor.
Lioran’s first thought was that they had come for consultation. Perhaps a crisis had occurred.
Perhaps the tower leader wanted to know his opinion before the next council meeting.
But seeing their numbers and their expressions, he understood that something had happened...
"Has something happened?" He closed the book quietly and asked with his usual confident tone.
No one answered. The security commander stepped a few paces into the room and stopped before the desk.
On his face, there was neither respect nor hostility. Only the coldness of duty.
"Lioran Lionheart." He paused briefly and then added:
"By the direct order of the tower leader, you are hereby under arrest."
For the first time in many years, Lioran’s mind went completely blank. No plan, no response, not even the ability to immediately process the meaning of what he had heard.
He just stared at the commander for a few seconds, then slowly rose from his seat.
His movement was still controlled, but the fingers resting on the edge of the table pressed slightly harder than usual.
"On what charge?"
The security commander did not take his gaze off him.
"It will be determined in the interrogation." This answer worried Lioran more than any other explanation.
If they had pointed to a specific charge, he could have guessed what had been revealed.
But this silence meant that either they had more than one piece of evidence, or they didn’t want to tell him anything before the interrogation.
While maintaining his composure on the surface, he reached his mind into his soul.
In the deepest part of his being, there was an ancient mark. A small seal that the founder had engraved into his soul years ago.
Lioran touched it with his will.
The first time.
No response came.
He tried again.
This time, he sent more force to the mark. Again, nothing happened.
No sound, no tremor, not even a faint sign of the founder’s presence.
Lioran tried a third time. This time, a cold pressure formed in his chest.
But the result was the same. Absolute silence... At first, he thought perhaps the founder was in a deep meditation.
Sometimes he would limit his connection to the outside world for months or even years. But this time, there was a difference.
The mark was still there, but it seemed as if something inside it had gone silent. As if the disconnection was deliberate.
What was happening? Where was the founder?
Suddenly, an ominous feeling consumed his entire being...
The security commander gave a brief gesture.
Two restraint mages stepped forward and brought out dark chains; chains whose surfaces were covered in silver runes, designed to limit the flow of mana for high-ranking mages.
"Put your hands forward." One of them said.
Lioran’s eyes turned cold for a moment. A part of him wanted to resist right there.
He could take down several of the regular forces before the restraint rings were fully activated.
But doing so would only make him appear more guilty. He still didn’t know what evidence existed against him.
It was still possible that this was all a test, political pressure, or even an attempt to gauge his reaction.
So he extended his hands forward. The chains closed around his wrists, and a moment later, the runes on them lit up, and the flow of mana in his body suddenly became heavy and sluggish.
Despite the cold pressure forming within him, Lioran wore a faint smile on his lips.
"I won’t resist." Then he let his gaze pass over each of the elders present.
"But this mistake will cost the tower dearly." After all, this was an insult to his reputation and honor.
No one responded. The security commander only said:
"Move out."
When Lioran left his residence, the news of his arrest had not yet been officially announced.
But in a tower where thousands of mages, students, servants, and intelligence agents lived, keeping such a scene hidden for even a few minutes was impossible.
The first group of students saw him in the western hallway.
Lioran Lionheart, the certain candidate for succession, the most popular figure of the tower’s new generation.
With his hands bound among security forces.
One of the students was so shocked that his books fell from his hands. A few seconds later, whispers began.
"Is that Professor Lioran?"
"Why are his hands bound?"
"What happened?"
By the time the security convoy reached the first connecting bridge between the tower’s two rings, dozens of people had gathered behind them.
When they reached the central hall, their numbers had reached hundreds. Classroom doors were opening, students coming out, and professors emerging from research rooms.
Young mages from upper floors watched his transfer using remote viewing spells.
Several of Lioran’s direct students rushed to the crowd, and one of them, upon seeing the chains, shouted:
"What is this?"
"Professor Lioran is not a murderer." Another stepped forward and said.
"Show us the evidence." Several voices rose from the crowd.
"By what right have you arrested him?"
"He is the future leader of the tower."
"You can’t treat him like a criminal without explanation."
The protests intensified within moments. Some students blocked the hallway.
Several young mages created luminous barriers in front of the security forces’ path. The security commander raised his hand, and the restraint unit reacted immediately.
A transparent wall of mana formed in front of the crowd, pushing them back a few meters, but no attack was made.
Using violence in such a situation could plunge the entire tower into chaos.
Lioran watched the entire scene carefully. On the surface, sorrow and disbelief could be seen on his face.
But deep down, he was completely satisfied with these scenes...