Imprisoned in the Orinovan priori labs, Ainreth undergoes torturous treatments daily in an attempt to crack the code to lightweaver creation. Things seem hopeless, until unlikely allies join his side to help him.
Meanwhile back home in Lys-Akkaria...
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Fennrin was so relieved the collar was no longer squeezing his throat or stabbing into him. It still hurt to move his head, but Daryan had given him something for the pain, so that was helpful.
He couldn't fail. He couldn't afford to. He just needed to do anything he could to help Daryan win this war, and then everything would be good again.
Fennrin pulled his coat tighter around himself. He knew no one could see the thorn collar around his neck under all of the layers of his clothes, but Daryan had been very clear he didn't want anyone seeing it, so Fennrin would hide it to the best of his ability. He didn't want to get whipped again, and he certainly didn't want to disappoint Daryan even more.
At least his mind felt focused, and he himself felt in control after taking that tonic Daryan had given him. Fennrin marveled at how easy moving and using his powers was now as he went around searching Kyr-Toryl with a few dozen guards.
He didn't think they'd be able to find them, not after Daryan announcing that they will be put to death if they dare conspire against him. But it wasn't Fennrin's place to question anything. He simply went around checking abandoned houses, looking around, even listening in on conversations of people they knew had been to protests. But nothing incriminating was happening.
The closest Fennrin had come to hearing something suspicious was a couple bemoaning their involvement, and the fear they now felt over it, hoping that they would simply not get caught if they didn't continue with it. For a moment Fennrin considered turning them in, but they clearly weren't protesting. And they wouldn't now that the punishment was death.
And so Fennrin moved on, finishing with his task before meeting up with the captain of the guard, who updated him. No one had found anything to work with, but they had heard people talk about some people leaving the city in a rush right after the decree.
It seemed the next course of action was clear, but Fennrin immediately stopped himself there. It was Daryan's place to figure that out, not his own. So he went back to explain the situation.
He patiently waited for Daryan to finish a meeting with the other Courtiers before telling him that they'd found nothing, tentatively hoping for some praise for a task completed.
Daryan however only sighed and ran a hand over his mouth, frowning pensively. "Follow me."
Fennrin did as he was told with a second thought, dread pooling in his stomach. Had he done something wrong again? He prayed to the moon that he hadn't.
His anxiety doubled when he realized Daryan was indeed bringing him to his chambers. But upon walking in, Fennrin wasn't told to kneel or take his shirt off. So at least no whipping, it seemed.
"You will need to follow the rebels. Find who is left and crush them," Daryan said, rummaging around cabinets.
