Alaric’s emerald magic erupted at his fingertips. “Mind magic in interrogation is forbidden. You all know why. Push too deep, and the mind tears itself apart.”
“Forbidden on Vallennans,” Merrick barked. “This is Draken filth.”
Alaric shifted uncomfortably. Elias looked down at the floor.
“We need to know,” Galen said. “If there’s an armada coming, we need to know when.”
“All in favour?” Simone asked tightly.
Hands rose one by one. Not quickly. Even Tobias hesitated, only for a second, but lifted his free hand. Finally, all seven were in the air.
First unanimous vote in weeks. And it’s this.
Simone nodded her assent. “Do it, Galen.”
No one argued. Tobias stepped away from the man, sheathed his dagger.
The Draken laughed, a low rasp, the sound shaking him as the guards held him in place. “You won’t break me. I hold more power than you could imagine.”
Galen moved forward slowly, his ice-white magic crackling and casting faint shadows against the chamber walls. “He will resist. I’ll need help.”
He looked towards Elias, who nodded and moved to join him.
“I’ll calm him for you,” Elias said. Violet seeped into his palms, threading into the air like smoke. “He’ll be more open.”
The Draken snarled, baring sharpened teeth, pulling hard against the chains. The rattles echoed off the stone.
“Hold him,” Galen growled.
The guards forced the man to his knees. Elias’s violet magic poured into him, soothing, numbing, blunting fear into compliance. His ragged breath slowed. His gaze dulled.
“Now,” Elias muttered.
Galen struck without hesitation. White light flew from his hands, piercing into the Draken’s skull. The man convulsed, and let out a terrible scream. The air crackled with magic, but it was sharp, acrid, wrong. His mind was fighting back – he writhed and clawed at the guards’ grip, thrashing despite Elias’s calm.
“He’s fighting me,” Elias spat.
For a heartbeat, Galen’s jaw clenched, his magic pulsing dangerously. Tobias’s stomach turned to stone.
Don’t fail.
With a snarl, Galen forced more power into the man.
“I’m getting there–” Galen hissed through his teeth, voice half his own, half the Draken’s. “Snow. Forged in snow. Last winter. The Dracanth – complete. A twisted sister of our Arcanth, capable of wielding dark magic.”
“By the Four,” Evelyn breathed.
Merrick’s face had gone ashen. “They have their own Arcanth.”
“Created months ago, whilst we remained blind,” Tobias said. “And wasted valuable time bickering over ours.”
The Draken jerked, blood seeping from his nose and ears. The stench of burnt flesh filled the hall – the magic scorching him from inside. His body was wracked with tremors, but Galen did not stop. Another surge of white light entered the man’s head and another scream tore from him.
Gods be good.
He forced himself to watch as a final shudder tore through the Draken’s body.
He fell limp. Lifeless.
