Page 5 of Sundered By Fate

"I realize this must sound like a trick of the demons. But I've been held prisoner in their realm for months—years, maybe. I’m not actually sure how long it's been." His voice cracked on the last words; he hadn't meant to sound so raw.

Virida frowned, arms still crossed. She didn't look away from him as she asked, "And why should we trust you?"

"Because I have a message for the Silver Tower mages," Aric said simply. "A warning."

She pursed her lips, studying him.

"Please. Just listen. The demons are planning something big?—"

"And why would you know that?" Bastian asked.

The room fell silent at once. Everyone's stares dug into Aric like shards of ice, and he had to fight not to squirm.

"Because they let it slip," Aric said finally. "While I was their prisoner."

They seemed to be waiting for more. He rubbed the backs of his hands over the cuffs, trying to scratch an itch at his wrists. It wasn't quite a lie, not entirely.

"I heard them talking about dismantling the wards all the way to Astaria. I know the path they're taking on their current campaign—the one that felled Drindal. I imagine they'll be striking here first before moving east."

Their faces remained blank.

"It's true," he insisted.

"And yet you knew when to arrive to scare off that patrol," Virida said softly.

Aric hesitated, then said, "I can't explain that. I only ran from Drindal when I—ah, managed to escape them. Yours is the first town I came across." His words tumbled over themselves. "I didn't have a plan. I only knew I had to run, and bring the Silver Tower a warning."

Virida was silent, hand cupped around her chin. The chamber was so still that the guttering of flames in their sconces echoed around them.

"You say you are a mage of the Silver Tower," Virida finally said. "And yet your spells . . ."

Aric exhaled. "I know. Yes, I learned some of their magics while I was their prisoner. I won't deny that. But you saw for yourself how effective they were at destroying their ranks."

"Have you mastered demonic magic, then?" Bastian asked.

It wasn't entirely unexpected; his skin prickled with unease.

"I did what I had to do to survive," Aric said slowly.

"And what if you lie?" Virida pressed further. "What if you're still under their control?"

The question hung heavy between them all before slowly dissipating like fog burned away by dawn.

Then she added, coldly: "Or what if you're a traitor?"

"I know you don't have any reason to believe me," Aric said slowly. "But I'm asking you to trust me. Let me stay here a while longer. I'll help out with whatever you need, earn my keep, proveI'm not a threat. All I ask is that you send word to the Silver Tower. They'll be able to vouch for my identity, at least."

So Aric hoped, in any case.

Virida's frown deepened, but she didn't interrupt.

"I want to help you prepare," Aric went on. "If the demons are planning an attack here, I want to give you a fighting chance. I saw the state your town is in. I know you're short on helping hands. Please, let me prove myself to you. You can watch me day and night, have guards on me at all times—I don't care. After months in the demon realm, under constant surveillance, I'm used to it." His throat tightened; he pushed the thought aside.

Virida glanced over her shoulder at the other councilors.

"It could be a trick," Bastian said.

"It could." Virida's expression was unreadable.

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