“Well?” Marrek prompts.
“No unusual signatures detected, Commander,” he reports dutifully. “She shows normal baseline readings.”
Relief floods through me, so powerful I nearly sway on my feet. Selen's liquid worked. Whatever the hell it was, it somehow masked me from the detector.
I’m about to step away from the machine when Marrek speaks again.
“One last time on Four-Three-Seven, at maximum sensitivity,” he says. His expression hasn’t changed, but something in his eyes has hardened. “And,”—now he looks at Zeriel—“protocol requires that we also sweep you, Champion.”
“Naturally, Commander,” Zeriel says. Our eyes meet for a fraction too long, and I catch a flicker of rare confusion there.
The bog fae hesitates. “Sir, at maximum sensitivity, the results can be... unreliable. We might get false positives from environmental aspects alone.”
“I'm aware of the limitations,” Marrek replies coldly. “Proceed.”
As the detector activates again, I feel Selen's eyes on me. Her face remains impassive, but there's a tension in her posture that wasn't there before. Is the liquid's effect limited? Will it fail under greater scrutiny?
The crystal glows brighter this time, nearly blinding as it passes before my eyes. The pressure in my head builds to a crushing weight, and I taste blood where I've bitten the inside of my cheek without realizing it.
Don’t react. Don’t move. Don’t give them anything,something in me warns, sharp and insistent.
The detector pauses again at my chest, lingering there until I fear I might scream from the pressure building inside me. Something is pushing against Selen's suppression, fighting to break free. Is it my magic? Or something else entirely?
Just when I think I can't bear it any longer, the detector moves on, completing its circuit before returning to its cradle. The bog fae studies the readout longer this time, his expression confused.
“Results are... inconclusive, Commander,” he finally says. “There's interference in the baseline readings, but nothing that indicates fae magic. It’s likely to be residual energy from the dragon pens, as I mentioned before.”
Marrek steps forward, examining the readout himself. His cold gray eyes flick from the results to me, studying me with detached interest.
“Very well,” he murmurs. “Continue.”
Zeriel steps forward to the marked spot with the ease of someone entering an arena he’s already claimed. I back away, trying to slow my racing heart, and find myself standing near Selen. Her face remains impassive, but I notice her fingers subtly tapping against her thigh—a nervous tic?
The detector whirs to life once more, its crystal tip glowing as it begins its examination of Zeriel. Unlike me, he stands at ease, shoulders relaxed. The crystal passes over his face, his chest, the length of him in a methodical sweep.
I watch, holding my breath. He’s confident the scan will findnothing because he thinks there's nothing to find. Which means whatever magical potential might exist in his blood remains dormant, unignited... Unlike mine.
The bog fae studies the results, nodding. “Nothing unusual, Commander. The champion reads completely normal.”
“As expected,” Marrek says, his voice betraying nothing. He rises from his chair, straightening his immaculate uniform. “Thank you for your cooperation, Champion Caelith.”
Zeriel inclines his head. “Of course. Whatever anomalies were detected must have another source. Let me know if I can be of further assistance.”
“Indeed.” Marrek doesn’t blink as his gaze slides over us, resting just long enough to make the silence stretch and coil. Then, with a flick of his fingers toward the door, he speaks softly. “You are dismissed.”
Chapter 20
We file out of the processing chamber with no further comment, my heart still hammering. One of the bog fae follows us out, muttering something about recalibration as he hastily departs down a separate corridor. I'm so consumed by what just happened I barely hear the words.
I survived. Whatever Selen gave me masked my talent from the highest sensitivity scan. The implications are staggering, and I struggle to even begin to process them.Does this mean my magic on the whole was suppressed by the strange liquid, or is it just somehow hiding it? Where or how did Selen get such a substance?For that matter, I want to know where or how she got her mysterious green healing liquid too.
Zeriel walks close beside me, his expression controlled, but I catch the flash of doubt in his eyes again when they briefly lock on mine. I can almost read his thoughts:the scan should have detected something.
Selen strides ahead of us, her back ramrod straight, giving no indication she intends to explain anything, or even notices us behind her. She turns down another corridor without a backward glance, as if we're already forgotten.
I grip Zeriel's arm and tilt my head in Selen's direction,silently suggesting we follow her. His brow furrows, but I give a subtle shake of my head. Whatever game Selen is playing, it's too dangerous to discuss in open corridors.
After a moment's hesitation, Zeriel gives an almost imperceptible nod. He must suspect I have a fuller picture than him, and discovery’s worth sacrificing temporary control. We fall back slightly, maintaining enough distance to avoid suspicion but close enough not to lose sight of Selen's silver-cropped head as she navigates the maze of passages.
