Page 44 of Taken By The Dark Three
His eyes widen as he senses the sudden surge. “What?—”
I bare my teeth. “You want to own my mind? Let’s see if you can handle it.” With a surge, I unleash a wave of mental distortion. Not illusions—just a brutal twisting of the psionic field that spawns horrifying visions in his consciousness. Nightmarish shapes swirl at the edges of his eyes, dark whispers hissing.
He staggers, losing hold on the telekinetic force pinning me. Freedom rushes through my limbs. I gasp, staggering upright. Zareth grips the band, fury twisting his face. “You dare?” he snarls, voice ragged.
I roll my shoulders, dagger at the ready. “I dare,” I hiss back, letting the hallucinations intensify. I direct them with savage glee: shadows creeping over his skin, flickers of monstrous faces leering from the corners of his sight. If I push too hard, Orthani’s wards might detect an abnormally intense psionic fight, but I can’t hold back. This is life or death.
Zareth’s knees buckle. He clutches his skull, dropping the collar band. I note its arcane glimmer fading on the stones. The man who normally exudes unflappable psionic mastery now trembles, sweat beading on his brow. I don’t let up, pressing the wave further. Sinuous shapes swirl in his peripheral vision, spectral horrors that claw at him.
He chokes out a breath. “Stop,” he hisses, voice cracking. “I’ll—” But his threat never finishes. The illusions tighten their grip, forcing him to stagger backward. My heart races, half exhilarated, half terrified by how close I came to subjugation.
A cluster of guards appear around the courtyard’s edge, alerted by the commotion. I sense them gawking as they see Zareth hunched in agony. The band lies at my feet, faint embers flickering from its runes. I could destroy it with one well-placed dagger strike, ensuring no other mind-enslaving attempts. My instincts scream to do so, but the guards might swarm me if I sabotage a revered noble’s property.
Instead, I scoop up the band, shoving it into my belt pouch with a surge of daring. Let Zareth fear its loss. Then I grab the moment to escape. Guards converge, shouting for me to stand down, but I unleash a smaller psionic push, scattering them. They reel, momentarily disoriented. Taking advantage, I sprint across the courtyard toward a side archway.
One guard recovers faster than the rest, lunging to intercept. I slash his forearm with my dagger, a quick, controlled strike that keeps him from tackling me. He cries out, dropping to a knee. Another tries to block the arch, but I faint left then slip right, narrowly dodging a swinging blade. My body hums with adrenaline.
At last, I burst through the arch into a narrower yard near the orchard. My breath heaves, chest aflame with tension. I sense more footsteps pounding behind me. No good. I need a place to hide or an ally. Ai’s face flashes in my mind. I vow not to let them recapture me in a drugged state. The orchard’s twisted path might buy me time.
Dashing into the orchard’s gloom, I weave between sculpted shrubs and fruit trees, ignoring branches that claw at my arms. The footfalls behind me fade. Perhaps the guards lost track. I slow, pressing a hand to my racing heart. My mind reels with the knowledge that Zareth nearly collared me, a nightmare I narrowly evaded. My muscles tremble from the psionic exertion, but I can’t stop yet.
A faint sound startles me: a soft voice calling my name from the orchard’s edge. My spine stiffens. Could the guards have flanked me? Then I see her—a small figure half-hidden in the bushes, silver hair glinting in the dappled sunlight. Ai stands there, expression calm and eerie, as though she’s unafraid of the danger swirling around us. My chest tightens. She shouldn’t be out here alone, not with Orthani’s watchers. Has she escaped a guard as well?
I hurry over, forcing my frantic breathing to quiet. “Ai,” I whisper, scanning the orchard for potential eavesdroppers. “Are you all right?”
She tilts her head, eyes wide as the moon. “I sensed your fear, Selene,” she says in a hushed tone that resonates with uncanny clarity. “He almost took your mind. The tall one with red hair.”
A shiver runs through me, recalling Zareth’s attempt. “Yes. But I fought him off.”
Ai nods, as though she expected no less. She steps closer, her small hand brushing my forearm. “You are strong, but be careful. The threads are tangled. One will betray.”
I freeze, heart pounding. “One who?”
She merely repeats, “One will betray,” her voice distant, as though channeling something beyond her years. My blood chills. This child’s cryptic warnings have proven accurate before. My eyes dart, picturing Vaelith, Eryx, Zareth—any could betray me, or I them. A swirl of distrust grips my chest.
Ai glances over her shoulder, perhaps sensing approaching guards. Her voice softens. “I must go, or they’ll punish me. Please be safe.” Then, quick as a wisp, she darts through the orchard’s undergrowth. My throat closes up as I watch her vanish. She’s so small, yet burdened with powers that defy logic.
Footsteps scuff behind me. I spin, dagger raised, expecting more guards. But it’s only two patrolling soldiers, drawn bythe commotion. They spot me, eyes flaring with alarm. “Purna! Stand down!” one shouts, brandishing a short sword.
I weigh my options. Fighting here might worsen my precarious status. I’m battered from the psionic clash, and I doubt I can hide the truth of Zareth’s collar attempt. Panting, I raise my free hand in a show of submission, though not dropping my blade entirely. “I’m not resisting. I was attacked—Zareth tried to enslave me.” My voice shakes with residual anger.
The soldiers exchange startled looks. One lowers his weapon a fraction. “Lord Zareth? The psionic noble? That can’t be.”
“Believe what you want,” I snap. “He used a mind collar. That’s a crime even in Orthani’s twisted laws, right?”
They hesitate, uncertain. Then the older soldier gestures for me to follow. “We’ll take you to Commander Vaelith. Sort this out. Slowly, no sudden moves.”
I exhale, giving a curt nod. Let them bring me to Vaelith, hopefully before Zareth recovers enough to spin the story. My entire body feels bruised from the mental war, but triumph edges my exhaustion. I have the collar band, stashed in my pouch. That’s proof of Zareth’s treachery. Let him try to deny it.
We wind through estate corridors until we reach a small guard station near the main hall. The soldiers keep a watchful stance, though not violently. They sense something larger is afoot. Another guard is dispatched to fetch Vaelith. I wait in tense silence, ignoring the suspicious glances from passersby. My mind replays Ai’s warning: “One will betray.” Did she mean Eryx, with his mania for rebellion? Zareth, with his predatory control? Or Vaelith, who stands at Orthani’s heart?
Soon, Vaelith strides in, eyes dark with concern. He dismisses the soldiers, calling me forward. “What happened?” he demands, crossing his arms. “My men say they found you in the orchard, claiming Zareth attacked you.”
I clench my jaw, rummaging in my pouch. My breath flutters as I pull out the slender band, runes now dim. “He tried to fix this to my mind,” I say, holding it up. “A psionic collar. He wanted to break my will.”
Vaelith’s gaze snaps to the band, fury flickering across his features. “By the gods… That bastard.” He rakes a hand through the air in agitation. “Are you hurt?”
I swallow, feeling a trembling in my limbs. “Nothing irreversible. But I had to lash back with my magic. He’s probably reeling from hallucinations.” A hollow laugh escapes me, though it’s more relief than humor. “Your guards might be rounding him up, or he’s fled. I didn’t stop to see.”
