Stormhaze

Chapter 15: Interrogation

Edras struggled to remain awake, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions and blurred memories. As the fog of unconsciousness began to lift, he became aware of the cold, metallic surface beneath him, and the taste of ash and dirt still lingering between his teeth. The adrenaline from their counterattack on the quarry had long since faded, leaving a throbbing pain throughout his body.

As he opened his eyes, Edras saw that his hands were bandaged and chained. He was lying on the floor of a dimly lit room, similar to the one where he had found Kilas. The walls were stark white and sterile, giving the impression of a laboratory meant for harvesting, experimentation, and surveillance.

Edras tugged at his chains but they were firmly anchored to the floor. He had been stripped of all gear and clothing save for his underwear, but he had still managed to hide something from the Rykes. The small silvery orb his father had given him, Kilas' compass, was resting in his mouth. Had he fallen asleep completely it might have lodged in his esophagus and choked him, but for now it rested calmly beside his tongue. He spit it out onto his chained hands, but not wanting to have it stolen as well, he shoved it into his underwear. Great, so much for escaping to Iruvia.

He couldn't help but wonder if the Rykes planned to torture him, extract information about Alecaria and Kilas, and then kill him. Or just simply get straight to the killing. Although his loyalty to Kilas had evaporated after learning the truth from Gillien, Edras still loved his country. Despite its flaws, Alecaria felt to him like an old but cherished vehicle that only needed a new engine to run smoothly again.

The sound of a creaking door filled the dim room, and a young woman's silhouette appeared. She approached slowly. The lone lightbulb overhead illuminated her features. At first, Edras through it was a trick of the light, but as she drew closer, he recognized her. Though they had never properly met before, Lorin's distinctive appearance was unmistakable. The right half of her face was entirely blackened and scorched, with her crystal blue eyes standing out like sapphires among ashes.

A fresh wound slashed across her forehead, partially hidden by her light hair strewn in every direction. Had she been the one guarding Kilas' cell when the Etherions attacked? Was she the one that had stabbed Edras' hand with her knife just before he knocked her down with his rifle? Now, standing over him in a jet-black uniform, she seemed neither armed nor alarmed at their current predicament.

Lorin stepped closer to him and looked down, her expression unreadable. However, it felt to Edras as if she could read his thoughts the way her eyes studied him, and he braced for the worst as his teeth once more dug into his cheek.

"You know who I am?" Lorin asked in a low and measured tone. Edras nodded cautiously before she continued, "I've learnt that you are Edras Thoron. Grandson of Tarian Thoron, I presume. Quite ironic."

Edras raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Because your grandfather sells just as many weapons to us, as he does to the Istendil's. In a sense... he's the reason you are here."

Edras felt his stomach drop and the color drain from his face. He had always been aware of Tarian's business dealings, but could have never imagined his own grandfather selling illegal weapons to both sides to fuel the conflict. 'The old man always wins' he recalled Gillien once saying. It felt disgraceful.

"And... who do you represent?" Edras asked after a while.

Lorin squatted beside him to the sound of her black leather boots tightening. "We are what's left of an independent Ryken. And we would have achieved our independence, had you not attacked us. In particularly, had you not taken Kilas."