88. Subterfuge II (Patreon)

Confusion. Pain. Darkness.

When she opened her eyes, she felt as if she had taken the beating of her life, or better yet, died. Oh, how sweet that would be. Death seemed far better than her current pain.

Her head spun around as she tried to recover her senses. Slowly, lucidity came back to her, along with her vision.

The shadow found herself sitting in a small and dark room. She tried to move her hands but was unable to as they were handcuffed to her back. It also didn’t help she was on an uncomfortable stone chair. Probably to keep people from immolating it with magic or breaking it with raw strength. Pings of warding enchantments assaulted her mind, protection against divination magic and teleportation.

She was aware of her predisposition. She had been captured.

The shadow checked her teeth, looking for her suicide pill, but it wasn’t there, they had removed it. Even the hidden one underneath her gums. Expected.

But in her very attempt to escape her capture, she had failed to see the man before her.

“I guess you already know who am I.” The man spoke in a deep and powerful voice, enough to cow expert mages into submission.

And indeed, she did know.

A towering dark blue man wearing a black military uniform. A presence like no other. Only a fool wouldn’t recognize such a prominent figure.

The bane of the strongest dragonborn to ever live, the second most powerful ellari alive just behind the High Arcanist, the only eleven-star electromancer in the world.

The Ceaseless Storm.

“But I’m more interested in who you are.” The living legend said. “And what you did.”

The shadow gave him a cold, dead gaze. I don’t fear you. She thought, not even responding to him. Stablishing conversation during interrogation was a sign of weakness.

“Not talking? I expected that much.” The man smiled. “I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t have experience with interrogation nor torture, not at all.” He revealed. “It isn’t that surprising, there aren’t many opportunities, to begin with. I have been told such arrangements are done for foreign spies, but Ferilyn has been always a calm country. We don’t involve with the continent and the Isles, and they don’t involve with us. Simple yet effective.”

He had been standing up all this time, a sign of superiority, implicitly saying she was below him. Which was true in every sense of the word. She could only hope to be that man. But basic intimidation tactics wouldn’t faze her.

“But internal espionage is curious.” The Ceaseless Storm continued. “It’s penalized by law, but it is a completely different matter when things escalate to assassinations.”

No one was going to rescue her. A ten-star mage wasn’t disposable by any means, but the nature of the plans allowed for such inconveniences. They would kill her without getting a piece of information.

“You tried to kill one of my soldiers, and I have my reasons to think you are one of the people that tried to blow up Lan’el’s leyline.” He knows? Whilst worrisome, he lacked critical information. “And that I cannot forgive.”

She smiled at the soldier in response. That got a reaction out of him.

“I see...” A hint of venom slipped through his tone. “Well, as I have said, I’m no expert on torture, and even then, I doubt I’ll make you talk. If I tell the truth, I doubt there are experts on torture on Ferilyn, we are far too sophisticated for it. We aren’t barbarians like those draconids.”

With that, the shadow could agree. She still wouldn’t talk though.

“That’s why I thought of a better method, one not physical, but magical.” His visage shone in schadenfreude. “Private Nightfallen, please enter.”

Suddenly, the air stilled and the temperature decreased. Goosebumps populated her skin as a familiar feeling took place.

A man walked through the doorway. The man was immaculate, not a single trace of wounds or blood and a posture devoid of the pain of previous attacks. Wearing a tight teal military uniform, his figure made her skip a heartbeat.

It was as if their fight had never taken place, at least for him. Worse. It felt as if he only grew stronger from it.

“As you may well know, Private Nightfallen here is a mystic.” The storm talked looking directly into her eyes. Worthless intimidation. “Now, memory scanning is illegal, as it is scrying. But you know what isn’t illegal? Compulsions. Not mind or body control, those are incredibly forbidden, yet compulsions aren’t banned. And whilst you had yet to awake, I became aware of my soldier’s proficiency with such arts. Now, let’s see how much time you hold up, terrorist.”

The mighty mage moved away from the table and invited the mystic to sit on the unused interrogator’s pillow. The prisoner had an uncomfortable stone chair and the captor had a plushy and big cushion. More deterrent tactics.

“I’ll leave it up to you, soldier.” The Ceaseless Storm patted the young man on the shoulder and whispered something to his ears. Her sensible ears and passive divination spells made the low noise intelligible. “I’ll be watching you.”

The mystic’s visage remained unexpressive, much like her own. With all the time in the world, he sat on the cushion. His eyes were closed.

A solid minute passed in silence. What’s this, a new interrogation tactic? Maintaining silence until I talk out of boredom? The shadow scuffed on her mind.

“Not at all.” Mystic Nightfallen said out of the blue. Her breathing was interrupted momentarily. Had he? “I haven’t read your mind.”

Lies. Yet her heartbeat became ever-so-slightly faster.

“I’m a mystic, I can’t read minds, only souls.” Was that a joke? “Either way, this wasn’t any tactic whatsoever, I just needed a moment to gather my thoughts and feelings.”

Feelings? She wanted to spit at the man. Such trivialities weren’t allowed in a place like this. Actually... spitting on him may be a good course of action. If the man got angry and accidentally killed her, that would be a win in her book.

But before she could do anything, Nightfallen opened his eyes.

Lavender shone.

All her thoughts were dispelled.

The shadow couldn’t avoid looking at the man’s lavender irises. They irradiated with power so uncontrolled that it felt as if the irises were attacking the sclera, slowly turning it also lavender.

Her breathing became ragged.

There was something precious about those eyes, a mystical connection they only shared. A compulsion like no other...

Blood.

The taste of iron and mana made her recover her senses. She had bitten her tongue to fight off the compulsion. She had no mental defenses whatsoever, Shadow affinity didn’t provide her such spells so she didn’t possess any response against compulsions besides the intricacy of the mind of a ten-star mage.

“Oh.” The soul mage gasped in realization. “We can’t have that, can we?”

He stood up from his cushion and approached her. She closed her eyes and recoiled a bit by instinct, but no attack came. Quite the opposite. A soothing touch caressed her cheek. The pain promptly vanished, even the taste of blood, as if the wound had never even occurred.

Her mind became a sluggish mess as lavender mana infiltrated her very being.

She still had her eyes closed, so Nightfallen couldn’t do the same trick, but it was getting difficult to keep them closed. Her body craved that connection.

Once more, she bit her tongue, but before it even drew blood, it was already healed.

“Ahh...” She whimpered in a mixture of surprise and horror.

That’s when she noticed that whilst the mystic was before her, she couldn’t die.

More and more mana surrounded her body, slowly filtering inside. The shadow put more strength in her eyes, to the point that the strain was hurting her.

This isn’t a compulsion.

Lights appeared in the corner of her closed eyes. Her head was spinning around, the dizziness struck hard, enough to make her see illusions.

Then the feeling came.

Calmness.

Serenity.

Tranquility.

THEY AREN’T ILLUSIONS!

The shadow shot up awake, trying to run away, but the cuffs reminded her that she was tied to a stone chair. She pushed against the leather restraints, hurting and tiring herself, but there was no escape.

Her eyes were still closed but the lights remained. Small lavender sparkles. They wiggled around, akin tentacles, slowly approaching.

Speak.

A calm voice suggested. Incorporeal. Metaphysical. Not captured by her ears, but something else...

Her... soul?

Unwittingly, her eyes opened, only to show her the very changed room. The place had been filled with a dense lavender fog and the mystic’s eyes shone like stars in the night sky. Yet what worried her was the slight dilation in the space.

As her body filled with soul mana, physicality slowly lost its meaning to give way to spirituality.

Very real tendrils swayed around behind Nightfallen’s back, like predators ready to throw themselves at a prey’s throat.

Magnificent... Everything turned white.