Page 15 of Malicent
His tone is light, but I hear the restraint beneath it. A joke, yes, but not without tension.
I don’t answer. Instead, I reach outward with my magic, trying to latch on to any viable mind. Nothing. Just static. A void where thoughts should be.
Then, a choking rasp.
The sound scrapes against the silence, coming from the final door at the end of the hall.
I move.Steady now. Kalix flanks me, guided toward the sound.
The presence I sensed earlier outside of the house waxes and wanes. There, then gone. It slips through my awareness
Odd.
My fingers brush over the cold steel doorknob. I push it, and the hinges groan as it swings open.
Inside, the room is swallowed in nearly total darkness. Only a single window to the right allows enough moonlight to carve a faint silhouette through the gloom.
In the center, a figure kneels, hunched in on itself. The faint silver light catches on fabric, revealing the Duke’s insignia stitched into the back of his overcoat.
“Duke Leving,” I call, my voice low but firm. I ensure he hears me clearly.
Nothing.
I never sensed his consciousness when we entered. And even now, I can’t read him. He is a void, an absence.
That shouldn’t be possible.
Leving isn’t a mage, nor does he have one in his ranks. He shouldn’t be capable of mental shielding. Even if he were, I’d be able to sense the resistance.
Mental shielding is something beings with magic in their blood can perform more easily than those without. A mortal can still do it, but it takes extensive training by someone who is an expert on the topic, typically someone with mind magic.
There’s nothing. It’s not silence, it’s absence.
He remains frozen in place. Not even the subtle rise and fall of breath disturbs him.
Kalix and I step forward, slowly and with measure. The air feels even heavier now.
Something isn’t right.
He smells wrong.Kalix’s thought slips into my mind.
“Sir,” Kalix says, his voice firm, trying to get his attention.
Nothing. Not even a flinch.
Leving remains locked in place, hunched forward. We’re close now, barely a foot away.
Cautiously, I extend a hand. Maybe physical contact will snap him out of whatever this is. My fingers brush his shoulder.
The door slams shut.
A gust of air rushes past, like something stepping back into the room.
The presence I felt outside is here.
Leving jerks violently. His body convulses. His spine bends back with a wet, sickening crack.
Then he freezes. His head snaps back. Suddenly, arms fling outward, fingers twitching and stretching as if trying to grasp at something.
