Nullstone

> Once we got within half a mile to the fortified gate, something happened.
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> It was hard to describe at first, but it felt like I couldn’t get enough air to breathe—and no matter how much I inhaled and exhaled, the irritation never left me. The frightening sensation of suffocation worked its way from my chest out to my arms and legs.
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> The others must have felt it as well, because they glanced around and shivered, each with a furrowed brow. The crowds around us—and all the arcanists—spoke in concerned tones, their volume increasing with each step.
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> Traces leapt on top of the carriage, her fur shimmering in the gentle breeze.
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> “Don’t worry, apprentices,” she said. “My arcanist sent me up here to tell you we’re just traveling through the nullstone fields.”
> “Large veins of raw nullstone create an anti-magic effect.” Traces purred as she took a seat next to me. “Nullstone is prevalent in this area, but it’ll clear up once we reach the walls of the city.”
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> I tried to manipulate the shadows, but nothing happened. Not even any pain. Zaxis must’ve had the same idea because he held out his hand in dramatic fashion. Still nothing. To my shock, he pulled out a small knife he kept on his belt and sliced his forearm.
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> “Was that necessary?” I asked. He twisted his arm around as blood wept from the short line he had cut into the flesh. It didn’t heal. That seemed to worry him more than his lack of his fire—he stared at it with a vacant expression.
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> “Please, my arcanist,” Forsythe said. “Once we leave this area, your magic will return. It’s just suppressed.”
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> He grumbled something and then let the matter drop. His blood continued to drip, and I swear the plague-ridden monsters of our prison carriage could smell it. Their chittering and laughter drifted through the nullstone-wood.
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> I surveyed the Thronehold prison. The entire building was black and dark blue—all nullstone, I knew it in my gut. The place had a depressing visage that made me dread the inside. Bars lined the few windows, and a large wrought-iron fence circled the property line.
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> “I don’t feel an anti-magic effect,” I muttered to myself.
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> Traces meowed, and I almost flinched. I had forgotten she was on my shoulders—her weight had become a frequent constant that I could ignore altogether.
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> “Raw nullstone creates an aura,” she said. “This is refined nullstone. All its power is trapped within. Magic won’t harm this place.”
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> While everyone jumped off the trolley, I watched a pair of men in nullstone shackles being transported into the prison. They had marks on their foreheads, but they were too far away for me to see what kind of arcanists they were.
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> “Maybe I should take this time to practice my manipulation,” I said.
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> “The nullstone will prevent that, I’m afraid.”
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> Confused, I lifted my hand and tried to move the darkness of the dungeon cell. Nothing. Then I tried to step into the shadows and only managed to stumble forward.
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> “Why?” I glanced around, my enhanced eyesight still piercing the shadows. “I don’t feel that suffocating feeling, like when we passed through the nullstone outside the city. And I still have my dark-sight.”
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> “This is refined nullstone, shaped and built into the castle by generations of talented sovereign dragon arcanists. It’s a cunning form of suppression, undetectable until you’re in it. But the anti-magic only prevents magic activation, not passive abilities.”
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> After hearing the information, I admired the walls with a newfound sense of appreciation. “How did sovereign dragon arcanists craft this if it prevents magic use?”
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> “Dragons are unaffected by nullstone.”
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> - Coliseum Arcanist
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