Aaron clenched his jaw. Fucking cultural landmine. I just did the equivalent of proposing Nazi policies. Never mind that the idea wasn't benign to begin with.

He tried to open his eyes a bit wider and managed to squint at the room. The high-quality but austere furnishings did nothing to ease the weight in his chest. The two dark-robed men sat on recliners opposite the bed.

Aaron studied the Knowing Sage. He looks almost as normal as the mindmage. Is it their personality? Or their magic that makes them prefer subtlety?

The silence stretched. Aaron could feel the weight of their gazes on him, patient but expectant. No answer's not an option. He sighed. "Then it's our plan B."

He pursed his lips as he noticed the look the two men shared. The mindmage just shrugged. "The Watcher gave him an overly literal translation system for some reason. I assume this means a secondary option, right?"

Aaron just nodded. Another thing on the list of complaints about my employer. He sat up in bed and took a few deep breaths.

"I want a plan to deal with this, but I need to understand the situation. Looking at solutions before defining the problem always leads to bad outcomes."

"That is what I have been preaching for a long time, but the rational mind is ever subordinate to the bestial one," sighed the Sage as the mindmage threw Aaron a knowing smile.

"How do they identify young mages?"

The mindmage's expression soured. "We do not know. They find them when they are infants. Normally, mages are identified at fourteen seasons."

The Knowing Sage gently touched the mindmage's shoulder. "There are three probable options. Specialized cogni- or infomancers of at least Master rank. A large formation ritual spell. Or relic technology."

Aaron gave that a thoughtful hum. So it seems to be a special capability. One that could be destroyed. Single points of failure are always valuable. But I need more perspectives.

"This is another problem of leverage. We need to make someone who is in charge talk."

Aaron hesitated, gaze locking with the mindmage's. There has to be a way to break them. "Can—"

The mindmage's expression sharpened. "It is colloquially known as mindrape. An umbrella term for anything from enthrallment to cognitive adjustments or deep memory scans. I can do it, but I avoid it."

He shook his head and sighed. "It is a path that leads to madness. One meets one's own depths if one travels into the depths of someone else. Many promising cognimancers disappear in this pit of delusion and darkness."

The Knowing Sage gave a small nod, as if noting Aaron's reaction. "He can and will do it. But mindmagic is limited to few targets at close range. Give him a tenth-cycle with a cabal leader of the Purists, and we will hopefully know what we need."

Aaron tilted his head. "That doesn't sound trivial."

Both men snorted in response. Aaron leaned back, fingers steepled, mind racing through implications. Going after the leader is likely to be tough.

Aaron's mind scrambled for other options. "If the leaders are too well-guarded… what about their agents?"

The Knowing Sage made a measuring gesture with his hands. "A Night of Wolves. It is not unheard of. You are hardly the first person to consider the convenience in making a rival faction disappear. But cabalists are defended and paranoid."

Aaron shook his head. The mindmage leaned in, eyes narrowing. "What about an official solution? Could I build a coalition? I assume the abolitionists would support us?"

The mindmage smiled enigmatically. "They would, but they might risk their neutrality. It is their strongest shield against accusations. Expansionists, always hungry for power shifts, might be swayed. But the conservationists know who is their Black Brigade. And they are in charge."

Aaron stroked his chin. A plan was forming in his head. A daring plan.

"I have another suggestion. We do a two-pronged attack. You go after the Purists you can safely take care of. Theon mentioned that using poisons to put them into a coma is the common approach? Your talents should be suited to this."

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Aaron looked at the mindmage, who gave him a wolfish grin. An ancient part of him shuddered—prey before predator. "Very well. While you pressure the cabal, I will join them. Which mentor do I have to choose for that?"

Aaron's words hung in the air, but neither mage responded. A strange tension grew. The mindmage motioned to the Knowing Sage, who settled deeper into his seat. Something was coming. Aaron straightened as the room's energy shifted. Magic thickened.

Then the Sage's eyes turned inward—and the ritual began.

Aaron was about to ask what was going on, but a sharp hand gesture from the mindmage shut him up. Aaron observed the spell with rapt attention. Soothsaying?

With a sudden yelp, the Knowing Sage jerked upright and sat there, gaping at the sky as if a rod had been rammed vertically into his body. He spoke, but the words folded in on themselves—then came the whispers, crawling from the room's edges like living things.

Then the Sage screamed, and his arms shot up, pinpoints staring at Aaron like lances of accusation.

"A thread is spun through shadowed night, A heart claimed by conqueror's right. A brother's trust to blood betrayed, Where prophet and serpent in ruin wade. When Death tips scales with fleeting breath, And countless mothers sing of death…"

He crumpled up as if all his bones had been liquified. The mindmage caught his hand and leaned him back into his recliner. Aaron scrambled forward but stopped sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Is he fine?"

The mindmage wiped blood from the man's nose and pulled up an eyelid. The eye was red and bloodshot as a tomato. He got out one of the rubber syringes and injected the Sage with it. Unlike the blue ones in the tunnel, this one was yellow. He carefully searched for a vein in the arm and injected the fluid slowly into the bloodstream.

Then the mindmage turned to Aaron.

"He will be back with us shortly. Hopefully with some more insight into that nonsense."

His eyes grew colder, and he continued in a more serious voice. "Tell me, do you believe Magister Charos acted maliciously, or was he merely incompetent, under pressure, and overeager? And what do you think ought to happen to him for what he did?"

Aaron assessed the man who studied him in turn. Is this a test? Definitely.

From what he knew about this world, Charos likely faced huge trouble. Maybe even the death penalty. Aaron felt a tension leave his body. I've been mad about him without thinking. He isn't the one to blame. The people behind him are. All he did was fuck up one safety procedure.

Aaron stiffened as the memory clawed up—flesh torn, breath stolen. He exhaled slowly, grounding himself under the mindmage's watchful gaze.

Aaron met the Grandmaster's gaze. "I can save him from the consequences. Make him loyal to me and useful. That is what you would suggest, right?"

Aaron frowned as the man shook his head. "It is a matter of little import to me. We worked on him a little bit. But he doesn't truely matter. He isn't the first with ideas of getting around limitations."

The mindmage looked up, then nodded. "I will not influence you. Do whatever you think is best. Just tell me how I ought to nudge events."

Aaron failed to keep the disapproval off his face, but a tired smile was the only reaction. What do I want? I don't want to do more harm than necessary. Rule of law seems to be a matter of influence here.

Aaron snorted. I guess they save themselves the extra loop of lobbyism.

Do I want punishment, or am I interested in his research? The basic idea seems sound. He recalled the mindmage's dismissal, but the memory of the ape who had taken half a dozen rock-melting spells without getting hurt was vividly painted in his mind. Too vividly.

Aaron shook himself free of the memory and squared his shoulders.

"I want neither him nor his research harmed. I would like to talk to him, soon. He owes me." Aaron let the words settle. Charos can wait. But the future won't.

The mindmage turned back to the recliner. "Very well. I believe our friend is joining us again."

They turned toward the Sage, who was sitting himself up and wiped some drool off his mouth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then repeated the first line of the prophecy—this time adding commentary.

"A thread is spun through shadowed night." "Eldritch impression, most likely the Weaver. Subject is commonly named early, so this likely refers to you, Champion."

Aaron nodded carefully as the mindmage hummed in agreement. The Sage continued.

"A heart claimed by conqueror's right. A brother's trust to blood betrayed."

He hesitated. "The brother and the heart—there's blood between them."

Aaron swallowed hard.

Claimed by conqueror's right sounds bad. Especially when referring to a woman.

The Knowing Sage continued just a little too fast.

"Blood carries a dual meaning. Relational and literal."

He looked sternly at Aaron.

"Be mindful of whatever you do with siblings close to you."

Aaron's mind flashed to the sibling who had invited him to the gathering with other students. Lenora and Betir. Then to Ceiro and Lyra.

"Is… is this set in stone?"

The Sage's gaze softened. His voice didn't.

"Stone cracks. But few escape prophecy—especially with gods watching."

He clutched the edge of the bed. The words echoed—too cold, too final. Somewhere in his gut, something cracked.

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