Chapter 202: Davon’s ability

It turned out that the palace was bigger than it looked. Tyler got lost several times, before he could make his way to the main building.

Richard stood at the window of the east gallery, hands clasped behind his back, while Gal spoke at his shoulder in low tone.

That was the person he had been searching for.

He took deep breaths, before proceeding.

As soon as footsteps echoed down the gallery, Gal broke off mid-sentence and turned.

Tyler stopped a respectful distance away and bowed. "Your Majesty. Lord Gal. Forgive the interruption."

Richard did not turn from the window. Gal glanced at him, then back at the prince. "The king is listening, Your Highness."

"I leave at dawn," Tyler said. "Before I go, I came to ask for the official parchment of our alliance. The proxy vows were spoken in my absence, and my father would want the signed document in his hands. Mine too, if I’m honest. I’d like to carry it home myself."

Silence stretched. Tyler waited, and began to wonder if the king had heard him at all. This man honestly terrified him.

Then Richard turned his head slightly. His eyes found Tyler’s and held for a long moment, until the prince felt weak in the knee. Then he lifted two fingers from behind his back and flicked them once toward Gal.

Gal didn’t need it explained. "Of course," he said, and was already moving. "One moment."

He crossed the gallery and disappeared through a side door. Tyler shifted his weight, unsure whether to speak. Richard had gone back to the window as if the conversation had ended, and perhaps, for him, it had.

Gal returned within minutes, a scroll in both hands, sealed in black wax stamped with the crest of the empire. Razeal had really signed one. He held it out to Tyler, then paused, glancing once at the king’s back.

Richard gave the smallest nod.

Gal placed the scroll in the prince’s hands.

"Thank you, your majesty." He bowed. "You shall not reject this—"

"Your classmate." Richard cut him off and turned around. "Davon, was it?"

"Ye...yes?"

"He can tap into the human structure, yes?"

Tyler gulped down. "Y...es. His own body actually."

___

The dungeon smelled of stone and iron. Torches guttered in their brackets, throwing long shadows across the walls.

The man sat slumped in a chair at the center of the cell, wrists bound to the armrests, ankles chained to the legs. His head hung forward. Every few seconds his fingers twitched.

This was the general that Richard had singlehandedly picked up.

Rowen stood against the far wall with his arms crossed. Tyler, beside him with the scroll still clutched to his chest. Two guards flanked the door.

Richard was beside the door.

All eyes were on Davon. He was standing in front of the prisoner, pale as chalk.

The general hasn’t been questioned yet, and this was because of the parasite in their head that way away whenever they started talking.

This was Davon’s job, to take out the parasite. That was exactly why he was pale, because this was something he had never done.

"I told them I’ve never done it before," Davon said. His eyes found Tyler’s, wide and pleading. "I told them."

Tyler glanced at Richard, then cleared his throat.

"It’s a theory. Just try your best."

Davon turned back to the prisoner and drew a shaky breath. He raised his hands, hovering them on either side of the man’s head.

They waited. A bead of sweat rolled down Davon’s temple and dripped from his jaw.

"Close your eyes," Tyler said quietly. "Do it like you do with your own. Same thing, just... farther."

Davon nodded without looking at him. His eyes shut. His lips moved, counting under his breath. The air around his palms shimmered faintly.

The prisoner’s fingers twitched harder.

"It’s not working," Davon whispered. "It’s like pushing on a wall. I can feel him, but there’s something... something in the way."

"What’s in the way is you." Richard’s voice made him flinch. "Try again."

This was the part where he wished he had gone with the other students. His jaw tightened. The shimmer flared, then sputtered. A tremor ran up his arms, and he gasped, stumbling back a step as though something had shoved him. Sweat soaked the collar of his shirt.

"I can’t," he breathed. "I can’t get in."

"Again," said Richard.

Davon wiped his face with a shaking sleeve. He stepped forward again, hands raised, and this time Tyler saw it: the fear in Davon’s face was priceless.

"Please," Davon whispered, to no one in particular. "Please work."

He closed his eyes and reached in once more.

Richard heaved a boring sigh, almost disappointed. Then he moved. Close enough that Davon felt the cold of him before anything else.

Before the boy could turn, Richard’s palm settled on the crown of his head.

"Do it again."

Davon’s eyes flew wide.

Whatever had been a wall a moment ago gave way. His trembling hands stopped in midair, so suddenly that Tyler almost thought time had paused around them.

The shimmer between his palms steadied, then deepened. Davon’s eyes clamped shut.

"I see it," he whispered, voice distant. "It’s... small. It’s wrapped around something."

"Destroy it."

Davon’s fingers curled, gentle as if closing around a moth. The prisoner’s back arched against the chair and he groaned in discomfort. The chains rattled. A strangled sound tore out of him, and both guards stepped forward on instinct, only to stop when Richard raised a hand.

Davon drew his hands back, slowly, slowly. Something came out of the man’s skull, a thread of black light, thin as a hair, writhing. It twisted in the air between Davon’s palms, shrieking in a pitch.

Davon closed his fists.

The thread snapped. A sound like a cracking whip filled the cell, and the darkness burst into ash that drifted down and vanished before it touched the floor.

Silence.

The prisoner slumped forward.

Richard lifted his hand from Davon’s head and Davon’s knees buckled. Tyler lunged and caught him before he hit the ground.

"I did it," Davon said, dazed, staring at his own hands. "Tyler, I actually did it."

"You did," Tyler breathed, and realized his own hands were shaking. "Don’t go around taking control of people’s bodies though.

"No. I can’t. Not yet." Davon forced himself up. Then he turned to Richard.

"Thank you sir, for the enlightenment." He bowed.

"Gal," Richard called the man.

The shadow of the man showed in the door as he appeared.

"Get words out of him."