Darken sat cross-legged, hovering a foot above the floor of his prison. He was in a square room, surrounded by walls constructed of gigantic chunks of gray stone. What truly made it a prison, however, were the hundreds of complex wards that surrounded and were interlaced within the walls of the room. He'd spent many days attempting to untangle these wards in an attempt to escape, but his efforts had been as good as useless. In his countless hours of trying to find a way out, he'd only managed to further strengthen the magic keeping him imprisoned here. Even so, he was sure that, given enough time to study the nature of that which contained him, he could find a way out. The only problem was that would take thousands of years. Not that he didn't have the time.
Sighing, he opened his eyes and levitated back down onto the cold stone floor. Why was he even here? The question had run through his mind several times in the past few weeks and he still hadn't found an answer. Of course, he was here because, rather than returning to Fortis Montis with Levi, he'd chosen to entire the ruins of the Sky Temple...only to be devoured. By what, he wasn't quite sure. He had a feeling that perhaps that was why he was here - to meet whoever had been dwelling beneath the Sky Temple. Still, since the night the shadows had swallowed him, there hadn't been any sign of his captor. Purpose remains juts as unfathomable as ever.
Darken stood up and, brushing the dust off of his black cowboy duster, made his way over to one of the walls of his prison. The stone was laced with several cracks, many of them deep; it appeared that, at one point or another, some previous prisoner had attempted to use its fists to smash its way out. Not a bad idea, actually - often the most complex of traps had the simplest solutions. Still, whoever had tried to break their way out in such a way was absurd. It was as if the creature had imagined that by being ignorant to the nature of the magic imprisoning them that they would not be bound by it.
Running his hand across the stone, Darken paced the length of his cell, his boots clapping dully against the floor, the sound muffled by the lairs of dust that had accumulated over the ages. Very soon he'd have to being his work, to start breaking down that which was imprisoning him here. His work would be long, likely lasting several millenniums, and as such this would be the last time he had any form of freedom for a very long time.