He smiled and helped her get steady. “Those heels might be nice for riding, but I can’t imagine trying to walk around in those things. Here—let’s get to my office and we can get those off.”
She flashed him an appropriately silly smile. “Sure.”
The academy didn’t have guards stationed at the front doorway or anything so military. It appeared, for all intents and purposes, just like a school. None of the workers here carried weapons or armor on a regular basis. The students were kept under control by the powers of the wardens, the crystals in the walls, and some enchanted tools that could empower both. Rebellions were rare, Velle had assured her before, and only a few problem students even required a great deal of discipline. It was almost worse than having a legion of armed guards, Krystia mused, since it meant that the wardens had simply brainwashed these people to be docile.
Velle hung up her coat in his office, and she slid out of her boots and hopped along the floor barefoot. After a bit of pointless but necessary small talk assuring each other they had been heartbroken during their time apart, she coyly dodged a few of his fumbling attempts at a kiss and insisted he continue their tour right where he’d left off.
“It’s such a rare thing,” he said as he held her arm and escorted her through the hallway, “to find anyone interested in what we do here.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she replied. “Children love talking about wizards and magic and fantastic tales. You read stories about these types of people all the time.”
“Yes, but the reality is quite different than the legends,” he told her, stopping before a sealed metal door. He pressed his hand against an iron plate at its side, and she could feel him channel a small bit of power into it; a moment later, the door slid open into a large arboretum. Fauna of all different types were sprawled across a wide, spacious area meant to simulate a tiny forest. A balcony ran along an upper level maybe fifteen feet above them, and both the upper and lower sides had large reinforced metal doors along them. She could feel the dampening effect of the crystals by the doors—the misty tendrils of the Aether seemed to dissipate around them. Otherwise the most interesting thing was how out-of-place the metal doors looked compared to the natural plant life.
“Children’s tales like to portray these ‘wizards’ as people with total control over their abilities, and with the desire to use their powers for good,” Velle continued, smiling proudly at the scenery he had probably helped create. “But we both know that isn’t always how it works.”
Krystia carefully matched her body language to his expectations. “What do you mean?”
He smiled and led her forward to a patch of rare yellow flowers she couldn’t identify. “I’m sure you’ve heard the saying ‘power corrupts,’ yes?”
“Of course,” she nodded, taking in a deep breath of the flower’s sweet aroma. She recognized the scent from the gardens inside the Celenest Temple, but that was the extent of her botanical expertise. She had always been far more interested in art, people, and wine than greenery.
“Well, it has been proven true time and again throughout history,” he said. “Take an ordinary, good natured man and give him some form of power—wealth, servants, or even the ability to channel—and over time it will inevitably destroy him. Sol himself said that channeling Aether was the great challenge of humanity, the ultimate choice between good and evil.”
Krystia struggled not to roll her eyes. Instead she blinked up at him in quiet wonder. “You mean in how we choose to use it?”
“Precisely. When we connect ourselves with each other and make sacrifices to maintain our power, we create a bond that strengthens us against temptation.”
In other words, if we misbehave the king takes away our toys, she thought to herself. “But what about the king? How can we trust his intentions?”
“A king is only as powerful as his servants,” Velle assured her. “The Lord’s Council makes the important decisions, and His Majesty’s priests are the ones who wield his divine power. In a way, King Areekan is the ultimate servant—his powers exist only to enrich the lives of others.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she whispered. “I’d always thought of His Majesty as a very powerful man.”
The Headmaster chuckled. “Oh, he is. But remember that power can take many forms. He can do anything I could do, certainly, but the real power of an Ascendant is his ability to inspire and speak to others. Not even the mightiest Unbound could do such a thing.”
“I see.”
Velle paused a moment before plucking a flower and tucking it gently behind her ear. His hand traced gently along her neck, and she flashed him another smile. He had grown bold since their first meeting, and she needed to be careful that he didn’t lose focus…not until she’d taken what she needed from him.
Reaching into his mind, she subtly nudged his conscious mind away from his swelling lust and back to whatever lesson he had been attempting to teach her. At Serogar, she had successfully used this technique to keep the Alliance soldiers focused on their battle against the demons, but since then she had learned many other potential uses.
“The other major problem is that not all Unbound can control their powers,” Velle continued, leading her towards one of the metal doors. “I know you understand this first hand.”
Krystia put on a mournful face. “My brother destroyed himself and nearly killed my father, too.”
“Yes, it can be very tragic,” Velle soothed, squeezing her hand. “Priests are slowly taught channeling techniques over time, and they’re never introduced to anything they can’t handle. But the students here do not have such luxuries. Can you imagine what it would be like to hear the thoughts of people around you from the time you were an infant?”
More than you know. “It would be horrible,” she said instead. “Wouldn’t that do terrible damage to a child?”
“Irreparable, in most cases,” he confirmed. “Now consider unintentionally forcing your thoughts on others, or even harming people without knowing it. Then there are those like your brother who experience burnout at a very young age; they can very easily destroy themselves and everyone they care about. I wish your brother had been spared that fate.”
Krystia unconsciously glanced down to her empty hands and flexed her fingers. “So do I,” she whispered, forcing back the childhood memories. “Do you ever find any before these types of things happen?”
“Of course we do, as many as we can,” he assured her. He squeezed her arm again, and she realized she was crying. “Take this young boy here,” Velle went on, gesturing to a door. “At five years old, the family pet attacked and mauled their maid servant—a fully domesticated hound, mind you. The local priest realized the boy had been having nightmares about being caught in the wild and being attacked by wolves and the like. He hadn’t meant anything by it, but his mind had reached out and pushed the images into the hound’s head. It went into a killing frenzy.”
Krystia shook her head. “How is that even possible?”
Velle shrugged. “He couldn’t control himself. Most people have no idea what an Unbound is actually capable of, and that is probably for the best. Aether can empower a body to do almost anything.” He bit his lip. “Our species was not meant to wield that type of power, and this world was not meant to harbor it.”
“I just don’t understand how something invisible could have so much power.”
“The Aether is just one of many mysterious forces in this world,” he said, smiling. “It is everywhere, just like the air we breathe. But yes, many who cannot sense its power refer to it as ‘magic,’ when really we understand its inner workings quite well.” He turned back to the cell. “There are others like this poor lad, of course, including some who are even worse off. And then…”
Krystia blinked up at him. “And then what?”
“Then there are those who are not so innocent.”
“What do you mean?”
Velle smiled, but this time his expression was tight and
awkward. “Some men have learned they have power and choose to exploit it. Many simply steal or even enact glorified pranks, but others are far more detestable. It’s probably better if you don’t hear about it.”
“If I’m going to help these people, I need to know more about them,” she insisted.
Velle took a deep breath, sizing up her intentions. He believed she was genuinely interested in him, and in helping the academy. It was one thing that had attracted him before he had even had a chance to see her. “We have men here who have murdered with their powers…some who have done so many times. Others have used their powers to…well, to humiliate or control or even rape others. Normally, most of them would be hanged under Solarian law, but His Majesty makes exceptions for the Unbound. We believe there is much more we can learn from them, and so we keep them here for study.”
Krystia made a horrified face, and as it turned out she wasn’t even faking. The thought that some of the people were rapists or murderers was bad enough, but she was just as concerned about Velle casually lumping actual criminals together with people whose only crime was being born with the ability to channel.
“Fortunately, most of our students are nothing like that,” the Headmaster said, forcing a smile. “Most of them are brought to us as young children before they’ve really learned anything about their abilities. It allows us to shape and monitor their progression.”
“But you still keep them locked away?”
He shook his head. “Not always, and not all the students. None of them can leave the grounds, of course, but many are granted a high amount of mobility and freedom. We can provide anything they could want here—food, books, entertainment, and sometimes even relationships with their peers. Our goal is not to repress them, just to keep them safe.”
Krystia squeezed his hand. “Are there other areas different than this one?”
“Of course,” he beamed. “This way.”
They spent the next hour moving from area to area, with Velle showing her virtually the entire facility. Regardless of what she thought of its intent, there was no denying its splendor: the academy really did have almost anything one could possibly want. It was like a miniature, self-contained city in some ways, complete with its own laws and customs and people.
The other Asylum wardens smiled politely at her whenever they happened by, but she could feel their disapproval—or sometimes outright jealousy. No one seemed concerned enough to raise the suspicions of the king, however, since Velle had assured them that she was merely interested in helping the Asylum in any way possible. He had also implied that her “wealthy family” could probably provide them with additional gold and resources.
As for the students, she only managed to meet a few of them. Most were in private rooms working with tutors, he told her, or in their own rooms studying. The ones she did pass represented nearly all age groups, and most had actually ignored her completely. The few that did examine her more carefully she managed to soothe with her own powers. While she could tell that many were quite gifted, none of them had her training or experience, especially with telepathy. Her task wasn’t overly difficult even with the dampening crystals in place.
By the time Velle finished his tour, Krystia’s feet legitimately ached, and it didn’t take much to convince him that they should take a break and retire to his personal quarters. As the Headmaster, he was privy to a very nice living area, with two rooms full of plush couches and gaudy decorations. It only took him a few minutes to pour them both a glass of unexceptional wine and curl in closely with her on the couch.
Krystia knew he wasn’t a prolific drinker, and her powers made it easy to wipe toxins from her own body. While she enjoyed being tipsy as much as the next person, she liked drinking far more than actually being drunk, and she used this particular cleansing technique nearly every day. As a trained priest, Velle probably could have purged himself…but fortunately right now he had no desire to do so.
After one glass, his hand had moved to hold her dress against her knee. After two, it had slid underneath it to caress the smooth skin on her thigh. After three, she knew it was time to get worried. She let his hand reach almost to her waist and his lips just touch hers before deciding to end this charade.
The human psyche was an unpredictable thing by its very nature, and some minds were more difficult to crack than others. But thankfully Krystia had spent enough time with Velle that she knew exactly how to manipulate his senses as well as his memories, and it only took her an instant to establish control and fabricate an alternate reality inside his mind.
She started with a simple continuation of his expectations: he nibbled at her neck and explored her body with his hands. After a few more seconds, he gently parted her legs and slipped his fingers inside her knickers. He was not a particularly creative lover—his aspirations began and ended with him planting himself above her and thrusting away until he climaxed—but ultimately that only made her job easier. While his physical body remained still, stuck on its last action, his mind raced ahead with a fantasy that included everything he wanted with just enough variation to convince his mind it was actually real.
It took several minutes to weave the illusion correctly, but eventually she was able to slide out from beneath his grip and leave him mostly comatose on the couch. The humiliation he would suffer if one of his underlings could see him making love to a couch would probably kill him, but mercifully it didn’t need to come to that. After she had what she needed, she could just put him to sleep, leave a tearful goodbye in his mind—
And suddenly, Velle began to shake. His eyes flickered, his body convulsed like he was having a seizure, and a few seconds later his eyes gaped open wide.
“Wha—? You…”
“Oh, shit,” she hissed, diving back on top of him. She knew she didn’t have much time; if he actually managed to concentrate long enough to channel or alert his comrades, she would lose everything. The king would know that someone had infiltrated the Asylum, and the increased scrutiny and security would probably cost her months if not years. But after all the time she had spent planning out this day—after all the work she had put in mastering vocal inflections and mapping out conversations—she wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.
Grabbing onto the sides of his face, she channeled Aether into her fingertips. Velle struggled, grabbing at her arms in a frantic attempt to keep her away, but thankfully age had sapped away most of his strength, and she managed to hold her grip long enough to jolt him with a mild electric shock. He convulsed once before collapsing, unconscious but alive.
Grimacing, Krystia leapt back off the couch and waited. His door was closed, naturally, and the commotion probably hadn’t been loud enough for anyone who wasn’t standing directly outside to hear. But if he had sent a missive to his patron, if Areekan had been alerted to the sudden attack on his servant…
The seconds passed without incident, and after a few minutes she closed her eyes and swore under her breath. She had become arrogant and complacent; there was no other explanation. She had just assumed her powers were strong enough to manipulate an old man, but evidently she wasn’t quite as all-powerful as she’d thought. She was probably fortunate for the rising hostilities along the Crell border—Areekan was likely distracted with the more pressing issues of his Bound servants on the front lines than a few random priests sequestered at the top of a mountain.
Regardless, the bottom line was that she needed to be more careful. She couldn’t afford to underestimate Velle or anyone else again, not with the fate of every Unbound in Solaria resting in her hands.
Once she was positive that no reinforcements were on their way, Krystia leaned back down over the Headmaster. Now that he was unconscious, it was a trivial task to wipe away his recent memories and implant new ones in their place. She convinced his mind that he had successfully bedded her, and that she had left a few hours later with a promise to return soon. Drained by her youthful vigor, he had decided to take a short
nap…
She spent more time than usual just to make certain her work was done correctly, and she was thankful that the dampening crystals weren’t active in this part of the Asylum. After she finished, she stood and strode over to his desk. With luck, his office would have everything she needed, including detailed background information on each of the inmates. Then the liberation of the Solarian Unbound could finally begin.
Taking one last breath to settle her nerves, Krystia sat down and got to work.
Chapter Eleven
“Any civilization wholly convinced of its own righteousness is doomed to a quick extinction.”
—Aman Kao, Solarian poet, 826 AG
Calhara was legendary across the world for its many breathtaking sites, both inspiring and dreadful. The first time Elade had seen the splendorous crystal towers of Erulean, the Verdant City, she had nearly forgotten an entire childhood of ingrained suspicion towards her faeyn cousins. Likewise, when she had first marched through the Skull’s Pass and spotted the looming fortress-city of Shaladune, monstrous bastion of the dead, her knees had gone weak with despair. And years later, when Tevek had brought her to the Dawn Citadel, the single spire of light set against the crimson dusk of the God’s Wastes, her wounded heart had finally found hope.
But today in Torsia, half a world away from home, she once again looked out upon the majesty of Celenest, City of the Heavens. And as usual, she was not disappointed.
She and Tevek had been traveling for nearly four days now. The first part of their trip had involved taking the hidden portal linking Calhara and Torsia—without it, journeying halfway across the world would have taken them months if not years. One of the previous Solarian kings had constructed the portal several centuries earlier following the Zereloth Insurrection, a Calharan-based civil war that had drawn Alliance soldiers across the sea to fight alongside the Last Dawn. Its existence was kept secret for a good reason, but the Highlord and his chosen entourage were always welcome in Solaria.
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