Page 72 of Lost in Fire

I maintain the Shadowhand’s imperious bearing.

“Standard procedure,” I say, settling into the chair. “I assume we’ll proceed efficiently.”

“Of course.” He nods to the technicians. “Though your session has been designated Priority Level Alpha.”

Ice slides down my spine. Alpha designation means direct Ivory League interest. Special scrutiny for special cases.

The technicians attach devices to my temples and wrists. Their touch is clinical as they adjust settings. Magic brushes my consciousness like cold fingers.

“Comfortable?” Vex asks.

“Perfectly.” I keep my hands relaxed, though every instinct screams to break free. Dragons hate confinement above all else—it’s written in our bones.

“Excellent. We’ll begin with standard questions. Please respond truthfully.”

The preliminaries are simple. Position. Rank. Bloodline history. I answer easily, maintaining a measured tone.

The devices hum, mapping neural pathways. I feel magic probe my defenses and reinforce them with ease.

“Your cooperation is appreciated,” Vex says, though his posture suggests dissatisfaction. “Now, let’s discuss recent events. Your interrogation of the Aurora Collective operative, Hargen Cole.”

I prepared for this. “The subject provided valuable intelligence before being transferred to the secure facility. However, it soon became clear that he was planning to play a double game.”

“Most unusual to move such a high-value asset to your private facility.”

“As we discussed in our meeting, Elder,” I say smoothly, “his psychological profile required specialized handling. Standard chambers were counterproductive.”

The magic pulses stronger, seeking emotional responses. I visualize ice—solid, impenetrable, reflective. The technique has served me well, projecting calm while hiding fire beneath.

“Did these techniques yield additional intelligence?”

I deliver prepared lies with perfect conviction. “Confirmation of Aurora’s territorial expansion. Details of recruitment methods. Connection patterns between former assets.”

Vex gestures. A technician adjusts settings. The magic intensifies, pressing against my defenses.

“Your logs show significant gaps. Periods where recording devices were inactive.”

“Standard protocol for certain methods. The subject’s handler training included resistance to magical extraction.”

The pressure increases. No longer gentle probing but deliberate pushing, seeking weakness. I reinforce mental walls, drawing on techniques I’ve studied in anticipation of something like this.

“Alternative approaches,” Vex repeats. “Yet the results seem minimal for the time invested.”

The devices warm. Magic sends tendrils deeper into my consciousness. I feel the first real threat—a seeking presence that brushes buried memories.

Ember’s face, flushed with anger learning her father was alive.

Hargen’s eyes in morning light, watching me with such tenderness it hurt.

The safe house, our last refuge.

I push these images deeper, beneath layers of ice and shadow, focusing on manufactured memories of interrogations that never happened.

“Results require patience,” I say, reinforcing the rigid Shadowhand persona that has served me for so long.

Vex gestures again. A technician steps forward with a crystal vial. Liquid shimmers with unnatural blue light.

“This enhances magical conductivity.” He smiles coldly. “A little something I had developed for just such an occasion.”

---