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“Kyler, we have some questions for you concerning the Crimson Ring.” To Caleb’s credit, he did a good job of hiding his anxiety when he spoke. He sat with his back straight, head turned up, eyes locked on Kyler.
I cleared my throat. There were more important matters at hand than odd strands of mana.
“Are you both looking to join?” Kyler asked with a sinister smile. “We could use a dragon like you, someone to create pretty little ice sculptures for us,” he said, black orbs settling on me. His hands were mana-cuffed behind him, causing him to lean forward in the chair, already making an uncomfortable experience even worse.
I snorted out a laugh. No dragon would ever join a cult hell-bent on bringing back the Chaos King. “You can leave the recruitment speech in your cell,” I said, leaning forward. “We want to know why the Crimson Ring is after the three lost Moriarty paintings.”
The smile somehow turned even more wicked. He licked his lips, revealing a set of yellowed teeth underneath. “Just the thought of those paintings makes me lustful,” he said, beginning to giggle. The ring of burning flesh on his forehead appeared to throb with every giggle. It was deeply unsettling.
“Why?” Caleb asked. “What’s so special about them?”
Kyler suddenly stopped giggling, head snapping in Caleb’s direction. He leaned his head forward, causing the Enforcers to also budge toward the table. Kyler sniffed the air. What the fuck was he doing? I readied the ice that swirled inside me. If this guy tried anything, I’d be able to protect Caleb.
“You… you should know.” His head whipped to me. “You should all know. Fools. An artist everyone reveres, painting masterpiece after masterpiece after masterpiece after masterpiece!” He pushed forward, spit flying. The Enforcers instantly sent out two whips of scarlet-red mana, snapping them around his chest and pulling him back to the chair. The threads stayed, constraining him. “And still, no one saw the link. No one saw him as being one of the founders of the Crimson Ring. Fools.”
That was news to me. “Did you know that?” I asked Caleb.
He shook his head but kept his eyes on Kyler. “There were only five founders. All of them were caught and severed, left to rot in a prison cell just like you.”
“Who do you think brought all five together? Hm? I’ll give you a hint: he was amazing with a paintbrush. He understood art. And he brought that passion with him when he served our King. When he had to torture and manipulate, he’d use his skills as an artist to truly create wonders. You’d be amazed how far the human body can bend before it truly breaks.” He started to laugh again. The red strands of mana didn’t seem to be bothering him in the slightest, although it was kicking off my inner claustrophobia. Being held down like that in this windowless room sounded like one of my worst nightmares. I itched to stretch my wings just thinking about it.
We agreed that Caleb would do most of the questioning, but he seemed to be getting more and more frozen as the seconds ticked by, and it had nothing to do with my powers. “So,” I said, taking control of the interview, “you’re saying Moriarty, one of the world’s most renowned painters, known for kicking off the Renaissance, whose work can sell for an insane amount of money, was one of the right hands to the Chaos King?”
“Not just one—he was the right hand. For quite a while. The Chaos King may have been locked in his cell—similar to me—but he had ways to communicate, and Moriarty figured it out. He discovered the location of one of the locks that still holds him caged to this very day.”
“Then why do you want the paintings?” Caleb asked, a subtle tremor in his voice. He looked pale. I noticed there were a couple of drops of sweat beading on his forehead. Was he really that nervous, or was there something else going on here?
“For that exact reason.” The giggles returned. “Moriarty was smart, talented, and a man who also enjoyed toying with people. He painted the three pieces with the intention of hiding a message. When all three paintings are laid side by side, a portal opens, taking you directly to one of the locks that cages the King. Moriarty would use his private portal to try anything and everything to free Niazatos, but he didn’t succeed. Before death, his paintings were stolen and separated.” His stained smile turned wicked, like a rusted blade. “And the Crimson Ring only needs two more of the paintings.”
That was news to me, although I made sure not to let my surprise show. Kyler was giving us just enough information to hook us on his line. I had to be sure he wasn’t planning on reeling us in.
