Northern and Eisha sat between the two beds while Alystren stood near the door. The elven man occupied his own bed, watching everything unfold with a dark expression.
Silence hung in the room for a long mont. Northern observed both of them—the tension in Alystren’s shoulders, the careful stillness of the elf—then spoke.
"So... care to speak after lying to my face?"
Alystren sighed and sat down on his bed, heaving tiredly.
"Look, boy. I... I have told you all that you needed to know, how co we’re still here? Not to even speak of the bond that you and I share?" He shook his head. "To be honest, I’m just shocked you could treat like this."
Northern chuckled and folded his arms.
"You know what I find oddly disturbing, Alystren?"
Alystren raised his head and looked at Northern.
"It’s how you’re oddly always in the scene where my mother got kidnapped... the last ti, you took us right into the place. I suppose you never could’ve thought that I would sohow have been able to find her all of a sudden. Without even looking at all." Northern let that hang for a mont. "You must’ve underestimated my eyes a great deal."
He shrugged.
"Okay, maybe you didn’t even underestimate because I couldn’t see what was right in front of then. But still, it must’ve hurt you to lose her when she was so close."
Northern’s eyes grew cold. The kind of cold that made the air feel heavier.
"You underestimated then. And you’re making that sa mistake now." He paused, letting that sink in. "You still don’t know how much I can see, do you? You just keep underestimating my eyes..."
Alystren was looking straight at Northern, confusion plain in his gaze. The things Northern was saying felt wrong to him—accusations that didn’t fit.
A stern frown darkened his face.
"Listen, boy. I will not let you continue to disrespect on no grounds. Do we do this by force, or do you let out of here?"
Northern looked at the man with sothing approaching disbelief.
"Oh. You... you’re sure? You wanna go that route? Are you sure?"
Alystren paused. His face betrayed him for a mont, showing signs of internal conflict. He pressed his lips together and exhaled, schooling his expression before eting Northern’s gaze again.
"Why don’t you just wait till Thalen cos around? I’m sure he’ll be able to clear the air."
Northern shook his head. "Thalen is your anchor point because that must’ve been the first person you got to. You’re hardly ever at the scene, Alystren. You’re always sowhere in the background, doing sothing. Why is that, I wonder?"
"The secrets of the guild are handled by . Thalen trusts to the very crust of Tra-el. We’re sworn brothers." Alystren’s voice grew harder. "The fact that you are holding here, insisting that I am soone I am not, will make him really angry. You might lose your ties to the Tharion Citadel."
Northern’s expression went blank.
"Forget losing Tharion Citadel. I will raze down the whole of Drywall if I find out that others were involved in those sinful atrocities of yours." His voice dropped. "So... if you do truly care about the Headmaster and his people, you better start talking."
Alystren sighed and lowered his head, genuinely exhausted by how this was going. Northern just sat there confidently, watching him.
Eisha had been silent for several minutes. When the atmosphere grew quiet again, she finally exhaled and smiled, looking at Northern first.
"At first, witnessing you talk to him, I was convinced he really might not have anything to do with the kidnappings. Not to speak of the fact that I had never even seen his face before."
Alystren glanced up, hope flickering across his features.
But Eisha was not done.
"...that was until you offered your last statent." She turned her gaze to him fully. "Did my son ever openly accuse you of being soone else?"
She shook her head. "No. He didn’t."
A small smile curved her lips. "All he accused you of is why you’re after , yet you just slipped under duress. You must have gone through intense sessions like this before—sessions where your identity is always suspected. Hmm? Mr. Alystren."
Alystren froze. He rubbed his face with his hands, rubbed his eyes, the exhaustion no longer just physical.
Northern stayed silent, his face carefully blank, but sothing warm flickered in his chest.
’Nice catch, Mom.’
Alystren looked truly confused now, seeming to be sorting through his own thoughts and the accusations swirling around him.
Sothing in Eisha’s expression changed. She raised her chin, a dangerous light entering her eyes.
"It must be really haunting you, wherever you are. Being right in front of like this, yet unable to do anything about it." Her voice went soft, almost gentle. "Peacemaker."
Alystren stared at Eisha with pure disbelief. He laughed first—a sharp, startled sound—then looked at both of them with a deepening frown.
"Peacemaker?" He turned to Northern. "Really? You think I’m Peacemaker? You think I’m an elf?"
He gestured to his own body.
"Look at thoroughly, boy. I am human! Very, very human! I have a human background, I have a human livelihood, I have a wife and a daughter, for all the stars! What are you even saying?!"
Northern didn’t look at Alystren anymore. He simply shifted his attention to the elven man who had remained silent this entire ti, studying him with keen interest.
"Elven one. What do you have to say about this? Were you really coming from South Drywall as this man—who is so convinced that he is who he is—has said?" Northern tilted his head. "Or were you with this Peacemaker person when he suddenly shed his skin?"
The elf tried to hide it.
But he was trembling in his eyes—that subtle thing, when fear overtakes the body’s control. It was hard to keep the muscles of his face still.
Northern saw it and preyed on it.
The elf’s silence was damning.
Northern rose from his position between the beds and handed Silver to his mother before turning to face the elf fully. His movents were unhurried, almost casual. The temperature in the room didn’t change—not yet—but sothing else did.
Sothing in the air itself.
The elf felt it first. A crawling sensation at the base of his spine, like cold fingers walking up his vertebrae. His breathing quickened involuntarily.
[You’re using Dread Manifestation]
"You know," Northern said conversationally, walking toward the elf’s bed, "I find elves fascinating. Your kind lives so long. Centuries, sotis. All that ti to accumulate experiences, mories, fears."
He stopped at the foot of the bed, looking down at the trembling man.
"But that longevity cos with a cost, doesn’t it? You’ve had so much more ti to learn what pain feels like."
The elf’s hands gripped his knees, knuckles whitening.
"I-I don’t know anything. We were coming from South Drywall, I swear on the stars—"
Northern tilted his head slightly.
"Ah. See, that’s the problem."
An invisible thread, thinner than spider silk and completely imperceptible, pierced through the air and anchored itself to the elf’s soul.
[You’re using Soul String]
The sensation that flooded back to Northern was... informative. Terror, yes—that was expected. But beneath it, sothing more interesting: confusion, guilt. Layered, heavy guilt.
And recognition.
This elf knew exactly who Peacemaker was.
Northern smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.
"You’re lying."
"I’m not—"
"Your soul disagrees with your mouth." Northern’s eyes flickered with blue demonic light, seeing through flesh and bone to the truth beneath. "Your heart rate just spiked. Your essence is contracting defensively. And there’s this... weight in your chest." He paused. "Confusion? Were you surprised yourself, the first ti you saw him beco a different person—absolutely convinced of who he is?"
The elf’s face drained of color.
Northern pulled a chair from the corner of the room and set it down directly in front of the elf, sitting with casual ease. Their knees were almost touching.
"Let explain how this is going to work," he said, his voice calm, almost friendly. "I’m going to ask you questions. You’re going to answer them. And every ti you lie to ..."
He raised one finger.
A single arc of lightning crackled between his thumb and forefinger—bright blue, beautiful, and absolutely controlled.
[You’re using Lightning Rod]
"...I’m going to remind you why honesty is important."
The elf flinched backward, pressing himself against the headboard.
"Please—please, you don’t understand, if I talk, they’ll—"
"They’ll what?" Northern leaned forward slightly. "Kill you? Torture you?" He let out a soft laugh. "Friend, you’re looking at the wrong tiline. They are a future problem."
The lightning flickered between his fingers.
"I am a present certainty."
The light grew brighter.
"So. Let’s start simple." Northern’s voice dropped, losing all pretense of friendliness. "The man sitting on that bed. Is he Alystren of Tharion Citadel, or is he wearing Alystren like a costu?"
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