The Merlinian Legacy (working title)

Chapter 8: How Not to Interrogate a Dragon

Rowan swooped down from the sky, her albatross form cutting through the air as she zeroed in on the witch. She aimed for the prisoner's shoulder, building up speed before making contact. With as rough a landing as she could manage, Rowan's talons slammed into the witch's shoulder, her wings flapping forcefully to steady herself. She dug her claws in deep—or at least she tried to—but something was wrong.

Instead of soft flesh, her talons met with an unnaturally hard surface, like the scales of a reptile. Her claws scraped against the witch's skin but failed to break through.

The prisoner barely flinched, slowly turning her head with a bemused expression. "Having trouble there, expert interrogator?" she taunted, her lips curling into an amused smile as she suppressed a laugh.

"You'll find I'm not so easy to crack," Saline added, her eyes gleaming with playful amusement at her own wordplay.

Beside her, the bakeneko shook his head in shame, clearly unimpressed by his partner's humor.

"Okay, so you claim to be a long-lost member of the Merlinian witch coven—that's easy enough to verify," Rowan said, her voice gaining more confidence as she locked her sharp owl eyes on Saline's.

Her feathers ruffled slightly as she perched on the witch's shoulder, determined to reassert control over the conversation. "A werewolf old enough to have lived during the time when the Merlinian coven was still revered as the great teachers of the old country's witches and wizards is on her way here," Rowan continued, recalling the letter from Redcloak she had seen on Alderwyn's desk. The reminder gave her a sense of leverage, knowing the witch's claim would soon be tested.

As Rowan spoke, she noticed a flicker of something behind Saline's amused façade—something akin to sadness, a shadow that briefly crossed her eyes before it disappeared. It was subtle, but it was there, and Rowan made a mental note of it.

Tilting her head slightly, she pressed on. "Let's see, what other claims have you made during your time here?" Her tone softened, her curiosity piqued by the hidden vulnerability she had glimpsed.

"There was the claim of coming here to save Alpha Rhydian's life, and also knowing beforehand what the results of the Vale twins' Alpha mutation would be," Maris Windwalker chimed in from the ground below, her tone sharp. "Not to mention claiming Alaric Vale as her disciple."

Rowan glanced down at Maris briefly, and by the time she turned her sharp gaze back to Saline, two green elephant ears, proportionate to her owl form, had sprouted from the High Priestess's head, startling the witch. "Right. You've made quite a few bold statements, haven't you?" Rowan said, her tone light but edged with curiosity.

She watched Saline closely, searching for any crack in the witch's amused façade. The momentary glimpse of sadness Rowan had noticed earlier had sparked something in her—a desire to push further, to uncover whatever the witch was hiding beneath her playful mask.

Saline raised an eyebrow, clearly fighting to stifle a laugh as her lips tightened. "Oh my, what big ears you have there! Are they to hear me better?" the witch asked, giggling.

Rowan tilted her head again, ignoring Saline's taunt. "So, the question is—are these claims based on truth, or are they part of some larger game you're playing?" she asked softly, her voice laced with quiet intensity. "Because if you're toying with us, I can promise you, things won't end well." As she spoke, her owl's beak transformed into an elephant's mouth, complete with tusks and a trunk.