Page 41 of Captive
Boarstaff focused on the battle in Sebastian's expression, on the war between pretense and truth stirring beneath that careful facade. Each surge of magic stripped away another layer of artifice, of what improvement had been designed to contain.
"You think you protect your people." Sebastian's words came out raw, caught between what he was and what he'd been made to be. "Think we chose this because we were weak. Scared." Red light caught his fangs as another wave of change swept through. "You don't get what we could become without these parts holding us back, keeping our true nature in check."
"Without what?" Boarstaff pressed harder where metal burned with renewed life. "Without processing everything real into something safe? Without burying power that proved too dangerous? Or without remembering what drove you to choose metal over magic?"
"Warchief." Fresh warning laced Ochrehand's voice. "His body reaches for something in his blood. Something that we've only heard of in the oldest stories, the darkest warnings."
"That they couldn't process away." Power thrummed beneath Boarstaff's fingers as resistance began crumbling. "Something synthetic means could cage but never destroy."
Sebastian made one final attempt to turn from revelation, but Boarstaff's grip held true. Forced him to face truths that painted reality in colors no mechanical lens was meant to perceive. Each surge of magic stripped away another lie until only ancient understanding remained between them.
"You'll doom us both." He spoke in a voice belonging to neither noble nor machine as something ancient stirred within him, visible through now-natural eyes. "Some choices can't be unmade. Some powers can't be controlled once they're awakened, even by those who possess them."
"Can't be controlled?" Boarstaff pressed the point where metal burned with renewed life. "Or can't be caged by synthetic means once they wake?"
Magic rushed with his words, with knowledge passed through generations of watching vampire nobility bury their nature. Sebastianarched against his bindings as ancient power woke what waited in his blood.
The metal under his fingers flowed like water, brass remembering not just where it came from in mountain stone, but possibilities beyond what vampire tricks had forged it into. Sebastian's breath caught as another wave of magic burned through systems never meant to handle such power.
"The metal around his heart's changing rapidly," Ochrehand warned, her magic crackling with concern.
Boarstaff saw it then, brass at Sebastian's core responding to the transformation, metal remembering what it had been before vampire artificers shaped it to their will. Eyes widened as another wave of change swept through. That gaze, now free of brass and copper, showed vision transformed beyond synthetic precision, to something the chambers recognized from ancient memory.
And in those changed eyes, Boarstaff saw fears older than vampire nobility.
"They were scared," Sebastian whispered, as truth stripped away pretense. "Not just of what they became, but of what they lost with each feeding. How the hunger made them stronger but burned away what they had been. Until they forgot why they chose turning in the first place."
The words hit Boarstaff harder than expected, a truth he'd been taught but never truly believed until this moment. Vampire nobility hadn't chosen synthetic precision from weakness, but to preserve something essential. Something the hunger threatened to consume with each unprocessed feeding.
Another wave of transformation hit, making Sebastian's body arch against ancient bonds that knew exactly how much freedom a vampire could be allowed.
"The magic works differently with him," Moonsinger observed, her aged eyes missing nothing. "The chamber doesn't just strip away his improvements; it guides them toward something else."
"Something the first ones almost became," Boarstaff agreed, "before fear drove them to processing instead."
Sebastian made a sound that belonged to neither noble nor predator, caught somewhere between recognition and terror as thechamber's magic showed him truths his father's improvements had been designed to hide. His body trembled under Boarstaff's steadying hand, brass pulsing with remembered life as transformation reached deeper than mere metal.
"They chose processing to protect their humanity," he whispered, the words tearing free from noble training that would have buried such vulnerability. "What remained of it after turning. After the hunger began reshaping them with each feeding."
Boarstaff felt the truth of those words as brass moved against Sebastian's temple. He'd watched vampire nobility retreat further into synthetic precision rather than face what lived in their blood.
The chamber's magic swelled again, crystal formations glowing with colors that spread ancient knowledge across living wood. Sebastian's remaining brass hummed in answer.
"What happens now?" Thornmaker asked, spear still ready despite the curiosity in his stance. "If he survives this awakening?"
"He becomes something his father never wanted," Boarstaff replied, feeling possibility pulse beneath his fingers where brass met flesh. "Something between what vampires were and what their fear shaped them into."
The council members exchanged glances, weighing implications beyond immediate danger. Beyond ancient hatreds that had defined relations between their peoples for generations. If Sebastian survived this transformation, if he became something neither fully vampire noble nor mere predator, what might that mean for everything they thought they understood?
"The histories say none survived this change," Moonsinger said. "That they all chose destruction rather than face what lived in their blood. Why would this one be different?"
Boarstaff thought of his brother's name among thousands on the Wall of Names. Of choices made from fear rather than understanding. Of what might be possible if they dared break patterns older than synthetic precision.
"Because he already made his choice," Boarstaff answered, feeling the pulse change beneath his fingers. "Not picking processing over truth. Not synthetic control over real power." His thumb traced the seam where brass flowed into flesh. "But picking learning over hiding.Becoming over destruction."
The chamber's magic acknowledged that choice, crystal light shifting to deep blues that spoke of transformation rather than mere decay. The metal beneath Boarstaff's touch pulsed with rhythms neither fully synthetic nor purely organic, something between states that remembered what it had been while becoming something new.
Sebastian's eyes cleared for a moment, looking past fever and pain to meet Boarstaff's gaze. Without synthetic regulation, his face showed raw honesty that cut through centuries of careful training.
