XXII

  Orin scowled at the individual in front of him. He despised working with Shades, but their success rate was second to none. The humanoid creature flicked its forked tongue from between its pointed teeth like a snake. The hood it wore cast a deep shadow over its face, so all Orin could see besides its devilish mouth were two red eyes, faintly reflecting the light back at him.

  "Are my instructions clear?" He asked the Shade.

  "Only watch, do not touch." It answered, and Orin shivered. The voice sounded more like something that was copying what a human sounds like, rather than actual speech.

  "Yes, unless I give you the order. Keep me informed of everything." Orin handed over three simple earrings, nothing more than a metal stud, but enchanted to allow telepathic communication over a vast distance.

  The shade bowed and stepped back into the darkness. Within a heartbeat, the creature was gone. It had Shadow stepped back to its own plane of existence, Orin knew, and all the better.

  He turned, walking back into the undercroft where he did his most important work. One of his Adepts, in a robe similar to his own, tipped his head as he entered.

  "I have brought the two most recent subjects, sir." The Adept said. Behind him stood two orphans, faces expressionless, eyes half closed.

  "Excellent. Follow me." Orin walked past them, and towards his personal space. The Undercroft stretched out beneath the entirety of the Silverbloods headquarter building, and in some places, branched out farther. It had been mostly a storage space many years ago, when Orin had first arrived here. Over time, he had converted into a vast arcane laboratory. Every magic user in this city could find something of use in some corner, whether they be a cleric, battle mage, healer, or any other kind of practitioner. However, his personal area was specially warded. No one in this city could get in without his consent. Orin pushed the door open and briskly walked in, sitting down at a table. The Adept brought the two dazed orphans in and sat them down on the other side. They stared blankly ahead.

  "Tell me your names." Orin said to them.

  The children, one a boy of 12, the other a girl of 9, looked at Orin with glassy eyes.

  "I don't know, sir." The boy answered, the girl repeating him. Their voices were flat and emotionless.

  'Who am I?" Orin asked.

  "Sir Orin, Psycho-Mage of the Silverbloods," Answered the girl. "and our master."

  "Very good. Tell me about where you are."

  They both looked around, the boy frowning. "I think..." He started. "We are in your study? But I don't remember how we got here."

  "What do you remember?" Pressed Orin.

  They hesitated, their eyes becoming unfocused.

  "I used to live here I think. Then I became your initiate." The girl finally said.

  The boy was still frowning. "Something bad happened. You...took us in?" He asked, his voice wavering slightly.

  Orin squinted at him. This one will need another session. He thought.

  "You did? That's very generous of you sir." The girl said to Orin.

  "Moving on." Orin stood, ignoring her comment. "See those bottles at the end of the table? Destroy them."

  Without any hesitation, the girl held her hand out and a crackle of lightning blasted forth, exploding several of them. The boy also raised his hand, concentrating hard. A bottle lifted into the air, wobbling, then shot against the wall, shattering. The girl blasted the last one before the boy could focus on it.

  Orin grinned. "Excellent. Leif, take her to her new quarters. Take the boy back to the recovery room." The Adept stepped forward, ushering the children out of their seats. Orin penned some notes in a journal he had on the desk. It seemed that even with what he learned from Lira, he still had not perfected his methods. He cursed her escape. If only he had been able to continue, she had so much potential! He pushed the chair back and rose from his seat. He had much to do, and not a lot of time. He walked through the undercroft, coming to a door with another adept standing by it.

  "Good evening sir." Greeted the man.

  "How's this lot?" Orin asked.

  The man peeked through the small barred window in the door. Three more orphans occupied the room, Two teenage girls and a younger boy. One of the girls stood in the opposite corner, her head pressed against the stones. The other girl was asleep on a bed, and the young boy was sitting on the floor, fiddling with something.

  "Well...another mixed bag sir. The girl in the corner, I think she's a lost cause. The other two seem fine, although she's been sleeping for a while." Answered the adept.

  Orin was staring at the boy on the floor. They hadn't been given toys, and the floor was kept clean of debris. Orin opened the door and stepped in, his attention caught. The boy didn't react until Orin knelt by his side. The child looked up, his eyes noticeably not vacant like his usual subjects.

  "What are you doing boy?" Orin asked.

  The child shifted to the side, revealing doodles on the stone floor.

  No, not on the floor, Orin realized. IN the floor.

  "It's a horse." The boy said, proudly pointing to it.

  It was indeed a drawing of a horse. However, it was not made by smearing dust around, but rather it seemed as if the stones had been melted and drawn in, like mud.

  "Show me how you did that." Orin said in awe.

  The child gladly reached down with his index finger, pressing it against the floor. The stone seemed to give way, and the boy began drawing another animal, shaping the ground with his finger tip.

  "It's a cat!" He said this time.

  "Yes...yes it is." Orin said absently.

  "That's incredible!" Came the adept's voice from over Orin's shoulder.

  "Indeed. Take him to a room, give him what he needs to be comfortable." While his project was still riddled with problems, occasionally, it would produce incredible results. This boy could be another milestone.

  The boy stood and left the room, following the adept. Next, Orin walked to the sleeping girl. He nudged her arm, but she remained asleep. Orin placed a hand on her forehead and closed his eyes. Her mind was a swarm of thoughts and emotions. Orin could see the fragments of his memories wrestling her conscious, locking them away into deep crevasses. He severed his connection to her. She would need time, and likely more sessions, but it seemed to be going well. He turned to the girl in the corner. She hadn't moved. Orin placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around. her eyes were bloodshot and vacant, a bit of drool had seeped from the corner of her mouth. His adept was right, she was useless to him. He walked to the door, then looked over his shoulder. He mentally tethered to the girl, pulling her to him. She began walking towards him, her feet dragging along the floor. He slowly made his way deeper into the undercroft, coming to a caged door. He waved his hand and the door swung open silently. In the far corners of the dark room, shapes moved, and weeping could be heard. A soft voice hoarsely repeated a lullaby over and over. A child stepped from the gloom, his eyes bloodshot like the teenage girls. Patches of his skin had been rubbed raw, as if he had been scratching incessantly.

  "Are you here to let us out?" Asked the boy, his voice shaking.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Orin ignored him, ushering in the teenage girl. She stumbled into the room, standing by a wall next to another girl. He turned and left, closing the cage behind him. It was about time to clear them out again, he needed more space.

  He headed deeper still, and the stone walls became that of a natural cave, the floor becoming dirt. No light pierced the gloom this far back, so Orin muttered an incantation, allowing him to see in the perfect darkness. As he continued down into the bowels of the undercroft, he felt himself pass through several of his wards. Each time he stopped to inspect it, looking for tampering and to ensure its strength. Only Roderic knew what was down here, and even then, the old knight only knew what Orin told him. Some secrets were best kept to himself.

  Somewhere in the darkness ahead, the sound of a large animal sniffing the air could be heard, followed by a soft growl. Orin continued forward, coming to his last ward. He stopped without passing through. He stood facing looking into the gloom, waiting for the creature to make its presence known.

  A face suddenly lunged at Orin, halting mere inches away. The mage didn't flinch. The face was a horror all on its own; A man, trapped halfway in the throes of lycanthropic transformation. His human face was horribly disfigured, The nose and mouth stretched forward into a short snout. Fangs poked out from his mouth at odd angles. Patches of dark fur grew inconstantly all over. The man had a massive hunchback, and his knees were bent backwards. one leg was longer than the other, and his arms reached nearly to the ground, ending in wicked claws.

  "Must you do that every time?" Orin asked the monstrosity, annoyance lacing his voice.

  "You know I do, mage. One day, your wards will fail, and I will feast on your flesh." The mutated man rasped, his voice sickeningly distorted.

  "One day, your usefulness will expire, and I will end your pitiful existence. But today, neither of us will get our wishes." Replied Orin.

  "You need me once again. And what if I refuse?" Questioned the man.

  "You and I both know that is impossible. Now hold still, I tire of this game."

  Orin held out a hand, palm facing the man, and glowing bands of light encircled the man-wolf's neck. He grunted, wincing as the magic snared him. Next, Orin dropped the ward, pulling the disfigured man from his prison. Orin forced him to walk in front of him, shambling along back the way they came. Orin pacified each ward they came across, allowing them to leave the tunnel unharmed.

  When they came to the gate holding the broken children, Orin could see the man was barely holding himself in check. Saliva dropped from his half-snout in a disgusting amount, pooling on the floor. His body was shaking, and a quiet growl escaped his lips.

  Orin opened the gate again, allowing the monstrosity to shamble inside.

  "Feast on as many as you like, but whatever you don't eat, let live. I will be back later." The mage instructed, then he removed the magical snare.

  As he turned and walked away, he heard a child scream in horror and agony, before being cut off by a disgustingly wet splash, followed by a howl.

  A massive werewolf was strapped to a large table. Bands of silver held it in place, ensuring the beast couldn't break free. Orin stood behind the creature, Both hands on its head. Orin's eyes were open, but rolled back in his head, showing only the whites. The beast on the table twitched, as though it had been prodded painfully. Inside its mind, Orin wrestled for control. The feral nature of the creature was as vicious in its mindscape as it was in the physical world. The werewolf fought against Orins intrusion, trying to surround and tear at the mages' will, but it was futile. Orin let the creature lash out at him, then caged its energy, whittling it down slowly. Eventually, The beast had no more energy to expend, leaving only a fragment of its willpower free. Orin pounced, holding it down and splitting it open. He rushed into the werewolf's consciousness. A strange mix of feral instincts and foggy memories surrounded him. Orin casually wandered the mindscape, searching for something in particular. Locked far back in the recesses of its mind, he found what he was looking for. The human memories that dwelled in the back of every werewolves mind. Sometimes they were old and dormant, others were active, fighting to be free. This one was the latter. Orin tapped into it, feeling the original personality that used to inhabit the body flow through him. He dug into it, locating the node of logic and reasoning, and isolated it. He viciously ripped it from the human presence, effectively destroying what was left. He placed the node in the center of the werewolves mind, then slowly released the consciousness he had contained. The hostile willpower instead became curious, and swirled around the node, rather than attacking Orin. The mage began withdrawing from its mind, watching carefully as it inspected the new knowledge it had returned to it. Just before Orin uncoupled his mind, he saw the beast's consciousness consume the node, fully embracing it.

  Orin stepped back from the creature on the table. It would take several hours for it to recover, and in that time he was half to smuggle it back out of the compound. Once free, it would roam the countryside, seeing things with new eyes. Roderic had surprisingly approved of this project, but like many things, he had no idea exactly how deep it went. Before Orin left the room, he dropped a magical tracker on the monster. Eventually, if it wasn't slain by a Silverblood patrol, he may still have use of it.

  Orin sat in his plush chair back in his main office. That work was always the most exhausting. It had taken him years to figure out what he could do inside the minds of werewolves, but it never seemed to get easier to do. They fought as ferociously as any trained Psycho-Mage, although they were still animalistic and therefore predictable. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift. There was still so much to do, but he was running out of time. Roderic's health was declining rapidly, but so was the effectiveness of the knighthood. Changes needed to happen, and soon, if this sect was going to remain operational. The capital had already made comments about sending a different command here to either shut it down, or fully revamp everything. Orin couldn't let that happen, not when he was so close to his goal. Just a few more days perhaps, and he would have the power he needed. A few key hurdles still remained however, and a new one was rising in the form of the Kindred Enclave. That pesky organization had slipped under their radar for a long time, operating as a charity group for orphans and survivors that the knighthood hadn't been able to get their hands on. He only recently learned about their network of spies, and just how resourceful they were. The Keeper of Whispers, that strange being from another realm who worked as the Warden of Public Affairs, had been very helpful, working directly and discreetly with Orin to uncover the truth.

  As Orin's thoughts shifted into dreams, he saw himself as a giant, standing over the entire city of Dreyamere. The people cowered and rushed to do his bidding, and his magic abilities were second to none. A grin spread across his lips as he drifted off to sleep.