The inquisitor calmly seated himself on the other side of the bars where Aureus lay chained to the floor. Torchlight illuminated the immediate area of the dungeon in place of the Arcanarium's magically powered lamps, serving as an unneeded reminder as to why the two men were there.

Rattling chains interrupted the uncomfortable silence as Aureus shifted in time with his rising hopes. Long face, scarred chin—he recognized the inquisitor. "Killian? Killian Sharpe? Thank the gods they sent you. You have to tell them I don't know what's happening!"

Killian brushed himself off and adjusted the hems of his tailored uniform.

Aureus yanked on his restraints. "Please! This is a mistake!"

Footsteps echoed throughout the stone chamber, approaching swiftly.

In the time it took for one of the Arcanarium's mage guards—a hexwarden—to arrive, Killian had made no effort to communicate or even acknowledge Aureus. Only after he reviewed the contents of a folded sheet of parchment delivered by the hexwarden did he change tact. "This says you were born here in Alatyr. Is that true?"

"What? You know I was."

"It's a yes or no question. Please answer it."

"Yes," Aureus replied. "Yes, I was born here. Killian, please... What's going on?"

"You're under investigation for the deaths of two adepts, five mages, six arcanists, and for the injuries of dozens more. Whatever it was you did caused a great deal of harm, and the effects haven't seemed to slow. The whole college is now under lockdown."

"It's still happening?" His heart sank, and a hard lump formed in his chest. "I have nothing to do with it—I swear!"

"If that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Killian— "

"If you really are innocent, I would advise you to shut your mouth and listen very carefully."

"But—"

"I said listen."

Aureus bit off his next words. He knew he was letting fear get the better of him, and he'd hoped his personal history with Killian would help. Now, he was beginning to understand. His innocence wasn't being questioned—only his supposed motives.

As far as the Aeldritch Enclave was concerned, he was guilty of murder.

Satisfied, Killian continued, "From what we can tell, you are still at the epicenter of this. The Enclave is taking emergency action. They don't believe they can prevent it from spreading. Current predictions estimate that in the next few hours, the city itself will be impacted. A lot of people could die. I need your help to stop it. Do you understand?"

Aureus nodded.

Killian shifted in his seat. "Now, from the start: Official records state you were born in Alatyr, but that's never been confirmed, has it?"

Aureus tried his best to get the words out despite his growing fears. "I...yes, that's true, I suppose. I was orphaned. Master Iliam brought me to the Arcanarium as a baby. He found me in an alley."

"'Tossed away like garbage' was his official statement, I believe."

Aureus bobbed his head.

Somewhere down the hall, a mouse squeaked.

"Unfortunately for you," Killian said, "the word of an excommunicate carries little weight. Is there anyone else who can corroborate Iliam's story?"

"Iliam saved my life. He had no reason to lie."

"That was the initial assumption—until today."

"What does he have to do with any of this?"

Killian ignored the question and asked, "Are you aware of the reasons for Iliam's excommunication?"

Aureus shook his head. "I never wanted to know. He saved me. Whatever he did before never mattered much to me."

"So, not once have you thought to look into it? You've had free access to those records since you were ten."

"No," Aureus said. "I never looked. Why would I?"

"Because you, of all people, know the grounds for excommunication." Killian sighed. "You're an archivist—a damn good one by all accounts—and that doesn't come without a curious mind. You know as well as I do there aren't many things that get one expelled from the Arcanarium. With that short of a list, I imagine you've at least pieced some things together."

"Yes," Aureus admitted. "I've thought about it."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what did you conclude were the reasons for Iliam's excommunication?"

Is he trying to bait me? How does Iliam come into this? Aureus wondered. Aloud, he said, "I always thought it might have something to do with some sort of banned research."

Killian's next question came quickly, "What kind of research?"

The hairs on Aureus's arms and neck rose. It was becoming increasingly clear how many steps ahead the inquisitor was. He needed to be careful. "Nothing good," he replied.

"You're a smart man. You understand more about magical theory and application than even some of our most talented arcanists. Be specific with your conclusions."

Aureus swallowed. "I've suspected Iliam might've been involved in the occult. Possibly..."—he cleared his throat—"high necromancy combined with alchemy and some form of thaumaturgy."

"Quite the potent mix of studies, wouldn't you say?"

He nodded, afraid to say more.

"Were you aware that your arrival at the Arcanarium coincided with the arrival fae from the Unseelie Court?"

"Yes, emissaries to broker peace at the end of the Long War, if I'm not mistaken."

"Did you ever think that was a coincidence?" Killian asked.

"Of course it was."

"Would you say the same if I told you that peaceful relations with the Unseelie depended on your care here at the Arcanarium?"

The question didn't make any sense. 'Depended'? It wasn't something he'd ever been made aware of. "No, I had no idea. You'll have to ask the Unseelie."

"I'm asking you now," Killian said, flipping another page. "But rest assured, I will be having a conversation with the ambassador." His tone froze the blood in Aureus's veins.

Killian resumed, "So you mean to tell me you had no idea that peace with the Unseelie Court had hinged on the Enclave's decision to take you in—days after Iliam brought you here?"

Aureus shook his head. "How could I? I was a baby! Why would I have mattered?"

"Were you aware of Iliam's close ties with the Unseelie?"

"I'd heard the rumors growing up—"

"Were you aware?"

"Yes," Aureus shouted, exasperatedly throwing up his arms. "Yes, I knew—but it's always been common knowledge."

Killian withdrew a pipe from his pocket and began packing it with tobacco. He struck a match and lit it, smoke billowing from his face. "Have you ever experienced visions? Heard voices in your head?"

"No, never," Aureus replied, trying to sound confident.

"Until today, have you ever used magic?"

"Of course not. I'm not a mage. You know that!"

"I know I've never seen you use magic."

"So you think I've been hiding it all this time?" Aureus scoffed. "That I'm unregistered? That I've managed to go unnoticed in the world's most prestigious college of magic?"

Killian shrugged, exhaling smoke. "Do you think the fae may have noticed?"

"Noticed what?" Chains clinked again as Aureus pointed at himself. "Noticed that I'm not a mage? Why do you think I work in the archives?"

"That's a good question." Killian's eyes narrowed. "Why did you take an interest in the archives?"

"There aren't exactly a lot of things for a kid without magic to do in a school dedicated to its practice and study. I got tired of sweeping and cleaning chamber pots."

"As I remember, you were almost kicked out for sneaking into the archives before you became a page."

"Yes... And?"

"Did anyone put you up to it?" Killian asked.

"No. I was bored and unhappy. I wanted to know more about magic and how it worked. As I recall, you wanted the same."

"So you wanted to be a mage?"

Now thawed, Aureus's blood began to boil. "Of course I did!"

"Did Xiomara help you figure out how to do it?"

The boil came to an abrupt halt. "Xio doesn't have anything to do with this."

Another plume of smoke drifted up to the ceiling. "From where I sit," Killian countered, "an Unseelie fae sharing a bed with you has everything to do with this."

This is what he's after, Aureus realized. This is what he's been building up to. The Arcanarium wants another war—and I'm the scapegoat.

Killian crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. "Do you know by what standard the Arcanarium recognizes someone as a mage?" Another plume of smoke drifted up to the ceiling. "A mage is defined as someone who can manipulate magical energies. According to that definition, you have been recognized by the Enclave as an unregistered mage. Dispelling or absorbing magic is, by definition, a manipulation of magical energy."

The statement solidified Aureus's suspicions as terrible understanding rushed to the forefront of his mind. "You think I'm some sort of spy..." he thought aloud. "Part of some conspiracy between Iliam and the Unseelie."

Killian sat up straight but otherwise said nothing.

Aureus adjusted himself, maneuvering his backside away from the cobblestone jutting into his spine. "Can I ask you a question now?"

The inquisitor inclined his head.

"What were the specific conditions set down by the Unseelie during the negotiations?"

Killian deliberated how to answer as he smoked. "I'm afraid that information is confidential."

"I'll be more specific," he said. "What were the conditions as they pertained to me? The fae must've somehow realized the Enclave was deciding what to do with me. What prompted their interest?"

Killian sighed and tamped the tobacco in his pipe. It relit, and smoke reintroduced itself into the conversation along with his voice, "That is for the Enclave alone to disclose."

"The Enclave isn't here. It's just you and me. I want to stop whatever's happening as much as you do. If you really think there might be a connection between Iliam and the Unseelie with what's happening, then fine, I'll bite—but I need your help. I don't want anyone else to get hurt, and the only way I can think to prevent it is by getting to the root of the problem. I can't do that without knowing more. You said it yourself, I'm damn good at what I do, but so are you. We can stop this. Together."

Killian sat impassively. Thinking. Smoking.

"Think about what will happen when this reaches Alatyr," Aureus pressed. "If this keeps escalating, who's to say there's anything to stop it? It's a rogue, undocumented ability not even I understand, and it's completely unchecked. Our civilization depends on magical technology, and whatever happens in Alatyr will just be the beginning. You know as well as I do what will happen if this reaches the Veil. We will all die."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a theory—one we can't afford to ignore. We both have people we care about. Help me figure this out, if not for their sake." He hoped he hadn't sounded too eager, fearing Killian would see it as an attempt at malicious manipulation, but he meant every word.

Killian shook his head and opened his mouth to speak. Desperate, Aureus leapt in. "Think about it! Just telling me I was a factor in the treaty means you've already disclosed state secrets. It was never part of your plan to release me, so you showed your hand to try and find out more. Now that's backfired, and you're trying to compensate."

He tried not to fidget under the inquisitor's gaze.

"Please," Aureus implored, speaking low. "Alatyr, the Arcanarium—this is the only home I've ever known. Help me protect it. Think of your wife and children. If I'm really the cause of all this, I can also be the solution. Just help me figure out how. I don't want it any more than you do."

Ash and embers fell from Killian's pipe to the stone floor as he upended it and crushed the small pile with the heel of his boot while he considered. "You're right about a few things, I'll admit. For one, we never intended to let you leave—at least not until we fully understood what happened and why. People are dead, Aureus." He scraped out the blackened contents of the bowl. "Can you feel it at all? The magic you're drawing in? Eyewitnesses stated they saw visible manifestations of magical energy entering your body just before the explosion."

"I don't feel anything," Aureus replied honestly. "Whatever it is, it's like the magic is being dispelled almost as soon as it touches me."

"Do you have any idea why it started being drawn to you?"

"No. I thought maybe it was because something happened during the experiment that forced it into me or that I somehow became a catalyst for the reaction. But there's nothing I know of that could've caused magic to redirect continuously, even after it all fell apart."

The inquisitor paced back and forth in front of the cell. "Help me understand: you were one of the chief architects behind the artificial ley lines used as the foundation for the experiment, yes?"

"Yes, but there were others involved in the designs."

"But you were one of the lead researchers, were you not?" Killian asked, continuing to pace.

"I was."

"And you didn't notice any flaws? Nothing that could've caused this?"

"No. None." Aureus elaborated, "We ran all sorts of tests based on that same design, and everything worked like it was supposed to."

"Were there any fae consultants brought onto the project?"

"No. We didn't disclose it to the fae or anyone outside the research team."

Killian stopped near the bars and crossed his arms. "You told no one? Not even Xiomara?"

"No. Not even her."

"Very well," Killian replied. He looked around the dungeon, contemplating.

The wait was excruciating.

In those moments, Aureus understood that his fate, and possibly the entire world's, hinged on what one man chose to do next.

"If I kill you," Killian asked, "will this all go away?"

Aureus had wondered the same thing himself. It was a curious question and one that didn't necessarily frighten him. As a student of magic, he'd learned to constantly entertain possibilities. Leaning into that aspect of himself, he answered honestly, "I don't know. If I died...this could all stop immediately. Or it could set off an unstoppable chain reaction that would accelerate the process. For all we know, my body could be acting as a heterogeneous catalyst that's buffering the effect. There's little to no precedent here."

Killian breathed deeply before saying, "Fine then, here it is: the Unseelie agreed to the treaty on the condition that the Arcanarium took care of you. One of their party had heard you crying from a store room where you were being kept with the kitchen staff. Iliam had brought you here only a couple days before."

It aligned with what Aureus knew about his first few years in the Arcanarium. He'd practically been raised in the kitchens. The staff there had been the first of many members of his family. "What phrasing did they use exactly? It matters."

"They said the Enclave must respect death and that by raising you, they would be doing just that. It was cryptic nonsense, but it was the final lynchpin in the peace agreement."

Aureus mulled the phrasing over in his head. If there was anything he'd learned during his time with Xiomara, it was that nothing the fae said was unimportant. They could seem carefree and aloof, but they were not as flippant or superficial as humans. "The courts of the fae are divided less by their seemingly different ideologies and more by the balance they inherently seek to maintain in the world," he recalled, paraphrasing a dissertation he'd once read.

"Meaning?" Killian asked.

Reverie broken, Aureus spoke directly to the inquisitor. "The Seelie Court seeks to preserve life and are resistant in their acceptance of death. It's what makes them prone to accidentally creating living aberrations. Contrary to that, the Unseelie Court openly embraces entropy and death—almost to a fault."

"Okay, but how does it make sense that an Unseelie would want you immediately cared for by the Enclave? Caring for you seems like something a Seelie fae would want."

"Most Unseelie were part of the Seelie Court once," Aureus replied.

Killian blinked, clearly confused.

"The fae are immortal. Alone, some are older than the combined ages of all the humans in Alatyr, but they go through life stages all the same. Yet, they're slower to accept entropy because they have countless years to live. They're like children in that regard, but their ideas aren't born out of willful ignorance—it's naivety. They assume the world around them endures as they do. As they age, fae slowly come to accept and embrace entropy and, therefore, death, as they're forced to watch the world change around them. It eventually gives them a new perspective and empowers them to act as a countermeasure to their younger kin. That's why it isn't uncommon for wars to break out among the fae if one side impacts the world negatively."

"How can that make sense? Queen Titania has led the Seelie Court for time immemorial—everyone knows she's among the eldest of their kind. Why hasn't she joined the Unseelie?"

"It's simple, really," Aureus replied. "The leader of the Unseelie is her mate. Together, they lead both courts to maintain what they call 'the Great Cycle' through the balance of life and death."

"Yet they allow war amongst themselves."

"Not in the way you and I understand it, but yes—Titania and Oberon are purposefully passive when the courts come into conflict. They allow the fae to fight because they know what lessons will come from it. Eventually, the scales do balance. Such wars don't occur nearly as often as ours, though. Only perhaps every few thousand years."

Killian grunted. "No wonder the Unseelie wanted to wipe us off the map after we killed Erenyx and imprisoned the Deathless behind the Veil."

"I don't think the Unseelie wanted all of us dead," Aureus explained. "But, yes, it was the final straw for them. We were just more...resilient than they thought, even weakened as we were after our war with their god. And yet they couldn't allow themselves to be destroyed or reduced to the point where they couldn't counter the Seelie Court in the future, so they opted for peace."

"The Unseelie underestimated us."

"Precisely," said Aureus. "Without the Seelie Court to support them, there weren't enough fae to fight us all."

"But their mages have always been more powerful, and all fae are essentially mages. Surely, they still had the power to do what numbers couldn't?"

Aureus shrugged. "Again, I'm not sure that's something Titania would've allowed. Had Oberon unleashed the full might of his court, she would've risen to meet him to protect us and the Balance." The ringing of chains reminded him that he wasn't in a lecture room discussing philosophy. There was a serious point to his discourse, no matter how interesting it was to explore fae concepts.

"As much as the Unseelie despise us for what we did," he continued, "they aren't willing to destroy us—they just want us to have a role. We're as much a part of this world as any other living thing. Forcing the Arcanarium's hand to keep me alive by introducing it into the peace talks could've been their attempt to teach the Enclave, and by extension humanity, a lesson where conflict failed. Don't you see? There's no evidence to suggest I'm connected to Iliam or an Unseelie plot."

"The way you describe the courts—it makes sense," Killian said. "Thank you for your insight. It's given me much to think about."

"That's it? What now?"

Killian picked up the chair. "I'm taking this to Enclave. Next steps will be decided from there."

"You're leaving? We have to try and figure this out. There's no telling how far and fast this will spread!"

"We'll get to the bottom of this—one step at a time." Killian's reassuring tone rang hollow. "You have my word."

"No!" Aureus pulled at his restraints, failing in his attempt to stand. "Killian! Don't leave! This could accelerate! You have to listen to me!"

Chair in hand, Killian disappeared from view.

Confused and exhausted, Aureus eventually settled on the floor.

He had much to think over while the Enclave deliberated on what to do with him, and not for the first time in his life, it seemed. He only hoped he could arrive at a solution by the time Killian returned—especially if it meant clearing Xiomara of suspicion and preventing a renewed war between the Arcanarium and the Unseelie Court.

He hoped he hadn't made things worse, though misgivings born from repeated analysis the conversation told him he had. Moreover, and perhaps most importantly, he hoped that by finding a solution to the initial problem, a greater calamity could be averted.

If the Deathless are set free, and we're unable to use magic, we'll be defenseless. Everything will die... Did the experiment grant me the ability to involuntarily draw and dispel magic? Have I always been able to do this? If so, what triggered it? If it's an inborn ability, there must've been early signs...

Such were Aureus's last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep.

He woke sometime later to the sound of his cell unlocking.

When he opened his eyes, he was heartened to see Killian. However, the presence of three other men he didn't recognize—a justiciar and two hexwardens—dashed his spirits.

It'd been rumored the presence of both a justiciar and an inquisitor together meant one thing: interrogation.

He prayed those had been only rumors.

The hexwardens unshackled him but left him cuffed as they lifted him to his feet and escorted him from the cell. But, instead of being led to the dungeon's exit, the hexwardens led Aureus to the left and down the hall, deeper into the prison.

One of the guards shoved him forward.

No one spoke as they passed the next cell block, and he caught a glimpse of it.

All other prisoners were gone.

The Aeldritch Enclave was going to great lengths to cover up the incident. So much so they were willing to relocate dozens of prisoners to question him without witnesses.

The rumors, it seemed, were true.

"Killian!" Aureus called. "Tell them I'm willing to cooperate! I want to help!"

No response.

Gods, they're going to torture me. "Killian! Killian, don't do this!"

A door came into view.

The more he resisted, the more forceful the hexwardens became. They carried his weight as he pleaded for release and dug his heels into the stone. Torch in hand, Killian approached from behind to hold the door open so Aureus could be shoved inside.

The room gradually warmed as Killian lit the torches resting in sconces along the wall. The chamber was barren, save for two chairs and a long table bolted to the floor on a pivoting post.

Aureus managed to free his leg as he was wrestled onto the table, inadvertently kicking a hexwarden's head, who responded by punching him in the face, discouraging him from struggling long enough for the guards to finish their task. When they had him secured, the hexwardens propped the table vertically to face the other two men and withdrew.

Killian closed in, and the justiciar sat before Aureus to watch the proceedings. "I need you to listen to me carefully. It's going to be up to you how long this lasts. I have strong reasons to believe you're an Unseelie sympathizer and a spy seeking to undermine the authority of the Arcanarium. It is my sworn duty to prevent this. Do you understand?"

Aureus shook his head. Why had things suddenly escalated? It didn't make any sense.

"For every dishonest answer you give me," Killian said, "I will remove a piece of you. One small bit at a time. Do you understand?"

Aureus shook his head again.

"I don't want to do this. But I need you to show me that you understand what's expected of both of us. I get honest answers; you keep pieces of yourself. Do you understand?"

This time, Aureus nodded.

Satisfied, Killian withdrew a knife and a pair of pliers from his breast pocket. "Let's get started then: Are you attempting to lower our defenses to allow for an Unseelie incursion?"

"No, gods, I swear it, no!"

Killian removed the tip of Aureus's right pinky, and his next question came fast, "Are you attempting to purposefully bring down the Veil as part of an Unseelie conspiracy?"

"No!"

Killian expertly removed the next segment of the same pinky.

Reeling, Aureus barely noticed a pause in the questioning as one of the guards was commanded to fetch a bucket. Cold shocked him back into lucidity.

A rough hand grabbed him by the hair and roughly pulled his head to an unnatural angle as the inquisitor leaned in. "You can make this stop. Answer me: are you an Unseelie spy?"

Sweat, tears, and water coalesced—obscuring his vision when he met Killian's gaze. "I'm not..."—he cleared his throat of bile and snot to prevent himself from choking—"Don't do this, Killian. You can stop, too. I'm on your side."

Killian leaned closer, voice dipping lower. "There's no one left to heal you with magic. You've seen to that. I don't advise letting this go on any longer. Tell me the truth. Are the Unseelie planning an attack on Alatyr?"

An unbidden smile came to Aureus's lips as he shook his head, and he erupted into delirious laughter.

The inquisitor waited patiently for the fit to end.

"I see what they meant," Aureus said, chortling between breaths. "I see what they meant..."

Killian readied his knife. "What?"

"I see why they hate us."

Killian cut away the last of his pinky.

Aureus screamed.

And the room burst into flame.

He woke on the ground, surrounded by piles of ash. Smoke, laden with the pungent scent of charred flesh and wood, invaded his lungs.

But aside from singed clothing, he remained wholly unharmed.

He stood and wiped the grime from his face, hardly noticing the hand he'd used had also been the one Killian maimed. Only when the joint ached as he reached for the door did Aureus realize his pinky had grown back.

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

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