I waved a dismissive hand before rising to my feet. The weight of her stare followed me as I took a few steps away from her.
“Elliot isn’t possessed. As an Inquisitor, you have no grounds to interfere in any personal enhancement rituals he may perform so long as he doesn’t harm others,” I countered.
“He’s not possessed,” she conceded with a harsh voice. “But he has kidnapped and brainwashed clerics in the pursuit of this ritual. There’s no doubt in my mind that the Onis did to them what they were trying to do to me.”
“They did,” I confirmed with a shrug.
She cursed under her breath and rose to her feet, glancing around the room as if in search of something.
“I must warn the Prefect, catch up with those two women, and undo the damage that was done to them,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument. “We must find the ten other women and free them.”
I tilted my head to the side as I gave her an assessing look. “You realize that they’re all probably already dead, right?”
She stiffened, her eyes flicking between mine, searching. “Did you see that when you ate the Onis’ hearts?”
“No,” I admitted, prompting tension to immediately release from her shoulders. “But why were the other women absent? Why was he so savage with Sienna? And why did he wantyou?”
“He said he needed me as the thirteenth bride. I don’t know of any ritual that requires thirteen females. So I will need to research that swiftly. But first, I must message the Prefect.”
“Fine,” I said, slightly annoyed. “You need paper?”
She nodded. I waved at the breakfast table in the room, which could also be used as a work desk. It was located near one of the large windows with a breathtaking view of the landscape outside. I fetched a paper and quill from the bookshelf near the sitting area and brought it to her, stunned by my almost servile behavior.
She took them from me with a radiant smile that awakened a dull ache and longing in my chest. I stood by the table, staring at her, my usually irreverent tongue at a loss for words.
“Thank you,” she said before beginning to write in fluid and elegant handwriting.
The excessively large letters took me aback. Was the Prefect visually impaired that he would require the text to be written with such big letters? It would take an insane amount of paper to complete her message at that rate. A raven would not be able to carry them. Normally, the sender wrote on a small fraction of the parchment paper with letters as tiny as reasonably possible to maximize the length of the message that could fit. They then rolled it into a very small scroll and attached it to the raven’s claw.
She barely wrote five sentences across the entire page. To my shock, instead of reaching for a second paper, she waved her hand over the message while whispering an incantation. My jaw dropped as the letters began to burn right off the page as if it had been made of canon powder set ablaze. In seconds, they vanished from the piece of paper, leaving it blank and unscathed, as if it had never been written upon.
“Impressive!” I said with genuine admiration.
She puffed out her chest and gave me a smug smile that made me chuckle, and that I also found incredibly endearing.
“Thank you, kind Sir,” she replied before gesturing at the blank sheet. “He should be able to respond to me in a similar fashion.”
“Is that a talent every Inquisitor possesses?” I asked, intrigued.
She shook her head. “No. Only high-level fire mages can perform this trick. The Prefect doesn’t have that power, but I created the channel through which he can respond. The person I contact doesn’t need to have any arcane abilities. It only requires for them to have a piece of paper upon which to receive the message and reply.”
“Very nice indeed,” I said, once more unsure what to think of the fascinating female.
Although she had been flattered by my compliment regarding her ability and also felt a great deal of pride about it, she didn’t strike me as vain. Even when she mentioned the requirement for being a high-level fire mage, she stated it in a factual manner, not boasting about her own power.
Before she could respond, the same type of flames appeared on the paper, writing the response from the Prefect. Instant relief appeared on Eleni’s face as soon as she read it. She waved her hand over the paper, and the text vanished. She then picked up the quill again and wrote another very brief message.
‘They’re brainwashed by Onis. Secure the Sanctum.’
The text burnt off the pages in a similar fashion only to be followed by a single word response stating‘Understood’.
“The women are safely back at the Sanctum,” she explained as soon as the last message vanished. “I have to go back there.”
“In the morning,” I replied in a tone that brooked no argument as she rose from her chair.
She recoiled and gave me a confused look. “Why not now?”
“You can’t travel back there on your own,” I said in a neutral tone.
