Jassyn rushed through the gateway, gasping as icy rain pelted him from every direction. Sheltering his face, he wiped the pouring water out of his eyes. Having expected Vesryn’s portal to transport them to the Spire, Jassyn spun around, orienting himself with the surroundings.
Lightning flashed over an endless expanse of churning waters, momentarily stealing his sight. The gateway behind him faded as his focus landed on the prince.
Standing under an overhang dangling from a husk of a building, Vesryn clutched the magister’s arm as if expecting Thalaesyn to open his own rift and flee. Desperate to curb the prince’s rash behavior before another reckless impulse struck him, Jassyn darted across what looked to be the ruins of a deteriorating stone dock.
Waves from the surrounding black ocean crashed over the ledge, surging around his boots. Dashing toward the prince, Jassyn reined in his confusion as he slid over the algae clinging to the slippery surface.
He raised his voice to be heard over the thunder warring with the wind. “Why didn’t you portal us to your office?”
Every frantic heartbeat doubled his questions and dismay. To combat the darkness, Jassyn flared globes of illumination, the wisps of light nearly swallowed by the night. He flinched as another charge of energy gathered in the air. Toppled towers flashed through the hazy mist, outlined by a spinning barrage of rain. Thunder rattled the crumbled stones, the proximity of the storm rippling a shiver across his spine. The lip of the ancient tiled roof hardly offered any shelter from the ocean’s raging spray.
“You can’t abduct the magister,” Jassyn protested when Vesryn just shrugged, despite knowing that no one regulated the prince. Every hair on his neck lifted in alarm before a strike of lightning blasted into the sea, the explosion of crashing waves drowned out by the thunder’s roar. “Where in the bleeding stars are we?”
Vesryn swept away water dripping down his face and released his hold on the Thalaesyn. He vaguely waved a hand around the ruins, ignoring the magister’s tight-lipped fury. “What’s left of this isle is the remains of Halaema’s first capital. It collapsed into the sea during a quake centuries ago. No one will find us here. Although…” Vesryn studied the brewing tempest. “We have little time. The Maelstrom seems to hunt Essence wielders on its waters. You have until the storm gets closer to evaluate Thalaesyn.”
“Evaluate?” Thalaesyn fumed, yanking his tunic straight from the prince’s jostling.
“Closer?” Jassyn sputtered at the same time. He frantically scanned the blackened horizon. “It’s already too close!”
An apprehensive chill drenched Jassyn’s chest like the deluge sluicing over his skin. That crackling blue and purple lightning whipping through the cloudy currents couldn’t be natural. Serenna had told him stories of spring typhoons that periodically battered Vaelyn’s castle walls—a few in her memory had even destroyed buildings that weren’t stone. The monstrous whirlwind in the distance must’ve been hundreds of times the strength of those storms.
Reading the question in Thalaesyn’s eyes, Jassyn swallowed down the anxiety climbing up his throat. His attention bounced back to the prince. “There’s no reason to be somewhere so dangerous. We shouldn’t be doing it this way.”
Jassyn’s muscles locked as a charged buzz shuddered over his skin, another wave of lightning forming in the air. Assessing Thalaesyn with the added pressure of the storm threatened to fracture his focus. Wrestling his nerves into submission, Jassyn slowed his breathing, counting the seconds between the lightning and thunder.
Vesryn folded his arms, tipping his chin at the magister. “What can you tell us of the coercion the king placed on you?”
Jassyn held his breath at the blunt force of the blow. I suppose with the Maelstrom approaching, there’s no time to dance around subtly. Though he honestly hadn’t expected much tact from the prince.
Thalaesyn wrung out his damp tunic, jaw silently working. “I’m aware that the compulsive magic exists.” His eyes narrowed first on Vesryn and then on Jassyn, as if processing their unusual dynamic. “How do you two know about it?”
Jassyn readied a response, brimming with eagerness to release the truth that he’d secretly been assessing his mentor’s mind for weeks. Vesryn cut in before Jassyn could get a word out, his tone sharp. “And why have you said nothing about my sire’s compulsion for a century? What did you do to warrant it?”
“If I could even speak of what the magic prevents me from saying, who would I have told? And who would’ve believed me? You?” Thalaesyn bared his teeth. “The council’s hound who tracks down the wraith without asking questions, not thinking twice about slaughtering those innocents?”
Jassyn tensed while Thalaesyn glared at Vesryn in a way that suggested they shared more of a history than he’d assumed—aside from the magister simply being present as one of the palace researchers. Eyes bouncing back to the prince, Jassyn braced for Vesryn’s reaction.
Vesryn went still, a predator honed in on prey. His words were dangerously quiet, unsettlingly calm like the eye of a storm. “Innocents?” The prince suddenly lunged, driving a finger into Thalaesyn’s chest. “Has the coercion degraded your mind so much over these years that you’ve forgotten how many those beasts have stolen from us?”
“That’s where you’re mistaken.” Thalaesyn’s face contorted with anger, but his voice didn’t rise to meet Vesryn’s outburst. “I know what the coercion is concealing, but Galaeryn saw to it that I can’t discuss it.”
Jassyn shoved his trepidation aside. He hesitantly placed a hand on Vesryn’s arm, hoping to temper the prince’s erratic behavior before he harmed the magister.
“You wanted me to examine the magic,” Jassyn gently reminded him. Vesryn’s muscles strained beneath his fingers. “It’s possible that I might be able to untangle the power and Magister Thalaesyn can tell us what the king has concealed.” The island shuddered under Jassyn’s boots, drawing his attention back to their dwindling time as the Maelstrom pursued them.
Vesryn’s fists quivered at his sides before his shoulders relaxed. The prince retreated a step, jerking his head at Thalaesyn, a muscle jumping in his clenched jaw.
“May I assess the coercion on your mind?” Jassyn asked, ruthlessly ripping his awareness away from the storm’s alarming energy. “If I can do so safely, I’ll try to unravel the magic.”
At Thalaesyn’s nod, Jassyn hovered a hand by his mentor’s head. While thunder rumbled, he hauled on his Well, spinning a wave of telepathic power through Thalaesyn’s veins, channeling raw Essence toward the magister’s mind.
Unable to take the lingering silence as his imagination cycled through the countless horrific consequences they’d face if the king discovered they were meddling with his magic, Jassyn asked, “Why were you banished?” He’d never had the courage to inquire before, and occupying himself with a conversation while he worked would also keep his attention off of the impending danger stalking the coast.
“I discovered—” Thalaesyn’s brows collided with what looked like a flash of pain before he cleared his throat. With a heavy exhale, he tried again. “The king wouldn’t have known—” Thalaesyn seized, yanking in a sharp breath, his words cut off.
The magister twisted a silver ring that glittered with Essence around his finger before focusing on the prince. “Your anger and pain are justified, but you’ve been misguided. You’re not the only one with regrets from that night.” Vesryn flinched at Thalaesyn’s words, likely reminded of his absence from the palace during the attack. “Your mother and brother wouldn’t have perished if I hadn’t meddled in magic that I had no business manipulating.” Thalaesyn’s voice was hoarse with remorse. “It’s all my fault. The only reason Galaeryn hasn’t killed me—or worse—is because I might still be useful in furthering his dark plans.” His gaze unfocused on the roiling sea, bitter regret lingering in his words. “I don’t know why he didn’t leave me rotting in the palace dungeons.”
“Your imprisonment disturbed too many in court,” Vesryn said, the war in his eyes subsiding as he calmed. “Especially those loyal to my mother.” His fingers started tapping across his arms while Jassyn directed his attention into Thalaesyn’s skull. “The opening of Centarya allowed for a more…acceptable exile.”
Jassyn jerked when Vesryn’s presence suddenly slipped into his head. Could you not? Jassyn asked. Your hovering is bound to be distracting.
Show me what you’re doing, Vesryn insisted.
Resigned that the prince would only harass him until he relented, Jassyn released a weary sigh. As long as you simply observe and don’t interrupt me, he conceded, permitting the telepathic link to coil around his mind. Jassyn embarked on an explanation, detailing everything he knew about the knotted network of telepathy. I’ll attempt to unravel a knot of coercion—I’m not sure what to expect.
What Jassyn didn’t divulge was how he’d accidentally untangled some measure of compulsion before. Though the magic on the elven wraith warrior wasn’t as extensive as the power snaring Thalaesyn—at least from the muddled details Jassyn recalled.
I shouldn’t have attempted to use Essence while under the influence of Stardust, he thought to himself. Guilt percolated into his bones like the chilly rain seeping into his skin. Any mishaps could’ve caused irreparable damage.
Jassyn targeted one of the countless snarls of coercion. He picked at the magic like he was attempting to unravel a single thread from a long rope, careful to not jumble the fibers in the other strands. Using his own telepathy talent like a magnet to draw out and counter the weaves, he loosened a cord of power.
The storm is getting closer, Vesryn warned.
Why did you bring us here? Jassyn wiped the beading mist and nervous perspiration off his face. We could’ve worked in Thalaesyn’s office. You’re rushing me and this isn’t something to be hurried.
Jassyn sensed Vesryn’s fingers twitching through their telepathic link, likely wanting to try untwining the knot of coercion himself. The progress of untangling a single strand of magic was painfully slow—unlike the Maelstrom’s impending approach. Jassyn glanced at the turbid waters and the windstorm barreling toward them.
What would happen if you cut the clump off? Vesryn asked, drawing Jassyn’s attention back to the magister under his hands.
