Strongest Incubus System

The garden of Arven had become, against Damon’s will, a kind of open-air infirmary.

Ester did not call it that, of course. To her, it was a controlled training area, with good visibility, few breakable objects, and a reasonable distance from any important document. Damon called it a prison with bushes. Aria, when passing by once, suggested ”courtyard of frozen emotional containment,” and the expression almost caught on until Ester threatened to ban visits.

That afternoon, Damon remained seated on the ground, legs crossed and left palm facing upward. Over his skin, a thin structure of ice formed an incomplete ring around his wrist. It was not pretty. It was not stable. It looked more like a broken bracelet made by someone in a hurry and in a bad mood. Even so, it had a purpose. Center, crosspieces, outer layer, small internal channels. An improvised lock for the root’s flow.

He breathed slowly and pushed Qi through the structure.

The ice cracked.

Damon closed his eyes.

”Do not break,” he murmured.

Naturally, it broke.

The ring split into three pieces, fell onto his leg, and melted into cold vapor before touching the fabric. Damon opened his eyes and stared at his own hand as if it had committed a personal betrayal. On the other side of the garden, Ester was sitting on a bench with an open book, but he knew she was watching every attempt. He did not need to look to confirm it. Ester could censure someone simply by existing in the same space.

”You forced it through the outer edge,” she said.

Damon looked at her. ”You were reading.”

”I have eyes.”

”Terrifying.”

”And you have poor technique.”

”Even more terrifying.”

Ester calmly closed the book and stood. She approached without haste, but Damon noticed that she was tired. Not in the obvious way, not swaying or losing strength. It was a fatigue accumulated in the small movements, in the way her shoulders lowered a little when she thought no one was looking. Six months keeping him alive had not disappeared just because he had awakened.

She knelt in front of him and held his wrist. ”Again.”

”With more criticism or less?”

”With less stupidity.”

”So more criticism.”

She ignored him. She touched his cold skin with two fingers and guided the Qi to the center of his wrist. ”You are trying to create the lock as if it were an external bracelet. That will not work. If the root reacts strongly, it will push from within and your structure will crack like now.”

”Then I need to anchor it in the meridians.”

”Yes.”

”That sounds dangerous.”

”It is.”

”You could have hesitated before answering.”

”It would not help.”

Damon released air through his nose. ”Great. Let us shove structured ice into my meridians. What could possibly go wrong?”

Ester raised her eyes to him. ”Do you want the full list?”

”No.”

”Then concentrate.”

He obeyed. The next structure was born more slowly. First, a thin thread of ice beneath the skin, not cutting, not piercing, only following the natural path of the meridian near the wrist. Then, a second line on the outside, connected by small crosspieces. It was uncomfortable. Not exactly pain, but a pressure far too intimate, as if he were building a lock inside his own arm.

The elemental root pulsed once.

The ice tried to thicken on its own.

Damon contained it.

”Good,” Ester said.

He nearly lost concentration.

”Do not say that out of nowhere.”

”Continue and I will take it back.”

”No, no. I heard it. It is on record.”

Ester tightened her grip on his wrist. ”Concentrate.”

Damon concentrated. The lock closed around his wrist, incomplete, but stable for three full breaths. On the fourth, it vibrated. On the fifth, it cracked from within, but did not explode. He undid it before it could break, pulling the cold back into his palm in a small, irregular crystal.

Ester released his wrist. ”Better.”

Damon looked at the crystal. ”Would this withstand a real reaction?”

”No.”

”You are terrible at motivation.”

”Motivation without precision kills.”

”I also need inspiring phrases.”

”Do not die from incompetence.”

”Perfect. I will embroider that on a banner.”

Before Ester could answer, footsteps came from the side gallery. Morgana entered the garden with Aria beside her, both carrying documents. Elizabeth came a few steps behind, reading a letter as she walked, which seemed dangerous only for ordinary people. Ingrivid closed the group, looking at the rooftops before even looking at the garden.

Damon realized the meeting had found his rest.

”That has the face of a problem,” he said.

Aria raised a sheet. ”It has the face, smell, and signature.”

Morgana looked at the incomplete ice lock in his hand. ”You were training?”

”Sitting. Under surveillance. Without destroying anything.”

Ester corrected, ”He destroyed four attempts.”

”Personal objects do not count.”

”They count for statistics.”

Morgana accepted that with a small nod, as if deciding it was not worth entering the discussion. She sat on a nearby bench, and that gesture alone made it clear the matter was not simple. Morgana rarely sat before delivering news, unless she was trying to keep her own body from betraying her.

Elizabeth folded the letter and spoke first. ”We received an informal answer from the Council of Guarantees.”

Damon raised an eyebrow. ”Does informal mean useful or cowardly?”

”Both,” Elizabeth said. ”They received the accusation, acknowledged the gravity of the evidence, and will send inspectors in three days.”

Morgana added, ”But they requested that Havelock be kept alive, intact, and incommunicado until their arrival.”

”That is reasonable,” Damon said.

Aria grimaced. ”The less reasonable part is that one of the assigned inspectors has an old connection to Valcair.”

Ester released a low sound. ”Of course he does.”

Elizabeth handed the letter to Damon. ”Lord Joren Mael. Officially, he is respected. Unofficially, he accepted Valcair sponsorship in two administrative campaigns and was responsible for closing an investigation against a company connected to Seraphine four years ago.”

Damon read the letter, but the name meant nothing to him. The pattern, however, did. ”So the Council is coming, but Valcair has already placed eyes inside the delegation.”

”Probably,” Morgana said. ”We do not know whether Mael is bought, compromised, or merely conveniently grateful. But we cannot treat him as neutral.”

Ingrivid folded her arms. ”I can prevent him from entering.”

Elizabeth shook her head. ”If we do that, we look guilty. Better to receive him politely and make sure he only sees what we want him to see.”

Aria raised her hand. ”I can prepare a controlled version of the files. Nothing false. Just organized so he trips over the evidence against Havelock first and takes longer to reach anything about the mines.”

Damon looked at her. ”Can you hide a mountain under paper?”

”With enough time, I can hide even a civil war.”

Morgana looked sideways at Aria.

Aria coughed. ”Hypothetically.”

Ester pointed at Damon. ”And he stays away from the inspectors.”

Damon raised both hands. ”I was going to suggest that.”

Everyone looked at him.

”I was.”

Aria narrowed her eyes. ”Are you actually maturing, or did Ester put something in your medicine?”

”Both options are offensive.”

Morgana placed the documents on the bench beside her. ”There is something else.”

Damon sighed. ”I knew it. There is always something else.”

Aria handed over a smaller sheet. ”I found a reference to Nera Solt after the accident in the third mine. She is not in Valcair now.”

Elizabeth completed, ”She is in a healing convent on Arven’s northeastern border.”

Damon looked at them. ”Convent?”

”Technically, a rest home maintained by priestesses of a lesser order,” Aria said. ”But yes. She was admitted there eight months ago under a false name. I found the payment in an account connected to Darius Kelm.”

Morgana grew serious. ”If Nera was in the chamber and survived, she knows more than Havelock.”

”Or she is too broken to speak,” Ester said.

”Possible,” Elizabeth replied. ”But we need to try.”

Damon already knew where that was going. ”Who is going?”

Morgana looked at Elizabeth. ”I cannot leave now. With the Council on the way and Havelock imprisoned, I need to be here.”

”Ingrivid should not move away either,” Elizabeth said. ”The security of the mansion and the prisoners depends on her.”

Aria raised a finger. ”I also cannot go, because I have to turn the archives into a bureaucratic trap.”

”Then that leaves Elizabeth,” Damon said.

Elizabeth smiled. ”And perhaps you.”

Ester slowly turned her face toward her. ”No.”

Damon, for once, did not answer immediately.

Elizabeth raised her hand before Ester could continue. ”Listen before executing me. Nera Solt studied the Heart. If she is lucid, she may react to Damon’s presence, or he to hers. That could tell us whether his compatibility is only with the Heart or with residues from the exposure.”

”You are suggesting using his body as a detection instrument,” Ester said.

”I am suggesting we take him to a conversation in a controlled environment, far from the mines, with you present and with authority to interrupt at any moment.”

Ester did not like the difference at all, but it existed.

Damon looked at Morgana. ”That makes sense.”

”I have not asked you yet,” Ester said.

”I know. I am worsening your position.”

”You are.”

Morgana was silent, thinking. The convent was in Arven, but far enough away to require travel. Taking Damon meant risk. Not taking him meant perhaps losing an important clue. Elizabeth was capable of conducting the conversation alone, but if Nera’s condition had any relation to the living cold, Damon might perceive something that documents would not show.

”One day of travel?” Morgana asked.

”Departure at dawn, return before night if there are no delays,” Elizabeth said. ”Small escort. No conspicuous crest. Officially, I am visiting a healing house to discuss donations from Mirath.”

Aria smiled. ”Donations are excellent for hiding pious espionage.”

Ester looked at her.

”It was a historical observation.”

Morgana looked at Damon. ”Can you do it?”

He thought before answering. Ester noticed and seemed to approve despite herself.

”I can travel,” he said. ”But if Nera triggers a strong reaction, I may need to withdraw.”

Ester nodded. ”Acceptable answer.”

”Was that praise?”

”It was risk assessment.”

”I will accept it too.”

Morgana made the decision with a sigh. ”Elizabeth, Damon, and Ester will go to the convent. Two discreet guards. No one beyond us knows the true reason. Aria prepares questions about Nera, the expedition, and the Heart. Ingrivid reinforces security here.”

Ingrivid did not like it, but accepted. ”And you do not leave the mansion.”

Morgana looked at her. ”I did not intend to.”

”I needed to hear it.”

Damon let out a low laugh. ”Welcome to my world.”

Morgana almost smiled.

The meeting in the garden dispersed into quick tasks. Aria left first, already murmuring a list of questions while trying not to drop the papers. Elizabeth remained a little longer, discussing with Morgana the details of the official message to the convent. Ingrivid went to speak with the route guards. Ester, naturally, stayed beside Damon, waiting for him to try to turn the plan into something else.

He did not try.

Yet.

When they were alone for a few seconds, Damon looked back at his own hand. He again created the small ice lock around his wrist. This time, it lasted six breaths before cracking.

Ester observed. ”Better.”

”Careful. Soon it will become praise.”

”Do not get excited.”

He undid the ice. ”Do you think Nera will truly be alive?”

”Alive, yes. Whole, I do not know.”

”And if she has been touched by that thing?”

”Then you do not get close without my permission.”

”You are taking this authority very seriously.”

”Someone needs to compensate for your lack of survival instinct.”

Damon looked at her. ”My survival instinct has improved.”

”It went from nonexistent to occasional.”

”Progress.”

She did not answer, but the corner of her mouth almost moved.

At night, Aria handed Elizabeth a set of questions organized into three categories: confirmable facts, exposure symptoms, and phrases that might provoke involuntary reaction. Ester immediately crossed out half of the third category. Aria protested. Ester threatened to make her drink Damon’s medicine. Aria withdrew the protest.

Damon read the remaining questions before sleeping. Underground Heart. Lower chamber. Living cold. Conductor. Host. Heartbeats. Blue crystals. Nera Solt.

With every word, the elemental root remained quiet.

Too quiet.

As if it were also waiting for the answer.

The next morning, the carriage left before the sun had fully risen. Elizabeth was impeccable, as if secret trips to healing houses were a natural part of her routine. Ester carried a medical bag larger than necessary and probably full of unpleasant instruments. Damon wore a dark cloak without crest, hood low, hair tied back to avoid drawing attention. Two guards followed on horseback, far enough away to seem like ordinary companions.

Morgana went to the courtyard to see them off.

”Do not get involved in anything unnecessary,” she said.

Elizabeth smiled. ”Define unnecessary.”

Morgana looked at Damon.

Damon raised his hands. ”Why does everyone look at me when they say that?”

Ester answered, ”History.”

Morgana approached him. ”If you feel anything strange, return.”

”And if the strange thing is useful?”

”Return and tell us.”

He held her gaze for an instant, then nodded. ”Right.”

Morgana seemed satisfied, but still worried. ”Ester.”

”I will bring him back whole.”

”Thank you.”

Damon looked at the two of them. ”I am right here.”

”We know,” they both said.

Aria appeared at the mansion door, holding another paper. ”I forgot a question!”

Ester pointed at her. ”If it is from the crossed-out category, I will know.”

Aria stopped in the middle of the courtyard. ”It was a little from the crossed-out category.”

”No.”

”But phrased delicately.”

”No.”

Aria lowered the paper. ”Safe trip, then.”

The carriage began to move. Damon looked through the window as the mansion fell behind. For a few hours, at least, Arven would not be on the table in the form of debt, map, or evidence. There would be road, cold fields, low hills, and a woman named Nera Solt, perhaps broken, perhaps dangerous, perhaps the only living person who had seen the Underground Heart up close and returned.

And in Damon’s chest, the elemental root remained motionless.

Not calm.

Attentive.

As if it knew that, this time, they were not following a call.

They were following a witness.