A/N Two of Three

James recognized her face from the numerous murals and tapestries: fierce, commanding, handsome rather than delicate. She wore a thin silver circlet with a large, deep-red stone set in the center, and her attire was a blend of martial readiness and lavish ornament. Leather greaves covered her legs, but her torso was draped in black velvet embroidered with threads of gold. A grand cornucopia motif arched over the back of the throne, sculpted in precious metals. Golden fruits, breads, and other symbols of bounty spilled down the throne’s frame like a waterfall of abundance and her at the center.

James and Lysander walked across a polished marble floor that reflected their forms in ghostly silhouettes. The hall was empty, save for them and the Baroness. Even the guards who had flanked the door did not enter.

As they neared the dais, James felt a firm push against the back of his knee. Not enough to hurt, but enough to buckle him onto the cold floor. He braced himself on his hands, uncertain whether to stand or remain kneeling. Beside him, the man also bowed low, touching his forehead to the floor in a gesture of homage. James decided it was best to mirror the posture, lowering his head in subservience.

A long silence stretched, broken only by the soft crackle of fire. James began to wonder if he should speak first when the Baroness finally addressed them.

“Thank you, Lysander,” the Baroness said, her voice echoing across the hall. She radiated an aura of command, though it was not as overtly enthralling as Lysander’s presence. It was more like a gravitational pull, something that compelled respect rather than puppet-like obedience at least for now.

“Yes, your Grace,” Lysander replied, rising gracefully to his feet. James stayed kneeling, uncertain of protocol.

“This one has manners,” the Baroness said. “Stand, boy.”

James scrambled to his feet and inclined his head, eyes carefully lowered to avoid direct defiance. Now that he was upright, he got a better look at her. She sat slightly askew on her throne, as if one side pained her. A subtle detail, yet it caught James’s attention. {Strategic Tranquility} helped him notice weaknesses or stress points in others during tense situations. It sharpened his awareness, letting him see the stiffness in her left shoulder, the subtle hitch in her breathing whenever she leaned that way.

She drummed her fingers on one arm of the throne. “Are you aware of who I am?”

James shook his head. “I have heard you called a Baroness of Ashwynd,” he said quietly, forcing as much politeness as he could muster. “But I don’t know your name.”

“Elira Thornwynd,” she said in a firm, clear voice. “But you will address me as ‘Your Grace’ or ‘my Baroness,’ whichever I find more pleasing at the moment.”

James dipped his head again. “As you say, my Baroness.”

She allowed herself a satisfied smirk. “We shall see if your courtesy holds up under testing. Lysander, bring forth the items.”

At her command, two men dressed in plain brown robes emerged from a door partially hidden by a marble column. They carried a wooden table between them, placing it carefully in the center of the hall. On the table sat two objects: a swirling crystal orb and a black cube. James recognized them with a bolt of apprehension.

He had encountered a Talent Revealer and an Affinity Stone before. The Talent Revealer could sense the Innate Talent abilities in a person, summarizing them in a faintly glowing message, while the Affinity Stone measured how well a person could handle various magical elements and displayed the primary one. His heart hammered. After everything he had been through, James was more than a little wary of letting strangers analyze him and his mind recalled Ser Loran's warning. Too much knowledge in the wrong hands was dangerous. But he suspected refusal wasn’t an option.

“Let’s see if what I bought matches the rogue’s description,” Baroness Elira said, her voice taking on a gleeful edge. “If Jackson has lied about this one’s quality, I’ll have his hide.”

James’s mind raced. Jackson had sold them out. Or perhaps sold him specifically. It was unclear, but it no longer mattered. The truth was that he was here now, at this woman’s mercy.

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Lysander retrieved the Talent Revealer, the crystal orb shimmering in hues of blue, green, and pink. He approached James. “Hold still,” he said in that mesmerizing voice.

James didn’t resist as the orb was pressed against his temple. A warm, tingling sensation spread through his skull and down his spine, like the gentle brush of static electricity. He felt threads of energy searching his soul, seeking out the hidden pulses of his talent.

A moment later, the orb glowed softly, and a translucent text appeared above it, visible to everyone in the room.

{Innate Talent}

{Level One}

Understand the Connection (Cobalt)

- Where others do not make the connection between important pieces of information, you do. This intuition manifests as a buzzing in the back of the mind and will guide you if you allow it to.

James recalled countless moments when he had felt an inexplicable buzz in the back of his mind, from when he and Joey went into the echoing hollows and he felt it at the tree, to when he heard the meowing when he struck the fish, to the call of the corridor to the Shadow Guardian and even in regards to Jackson.. That must have been this Talent guiding him without him knowing it. A wave of regret washed over him, wishing he had realized its significance sooner; it might have spared them all a great deal of suffering.

“Huh,” the Baroness said. “You notice things others miss. Not quite as flashy as illusions or commanding elemental flame, but the rarity indicates the potential of it nonetheless! Let’s see your Affinity.”

Lysander set the orb aside and picked up the black cube. With delicate care, he offered it to James. The object was surprisingly heavy, as though it were made of solid stone or metal. The surface was flawless, absorbing light rather than reflecting it.

“Channel your mana,” the Baroness instructed, leaning forward on her throne. “Unless you have no skill in such things. But I sense you do.”

She was right. Though James’s main experience with energy manipulation was tied to essence he didn't want to volunteer the information. Cautiously, James let a trickle flow from the wellspring in his core and into the cube. The black surface glimmered with faint light, and after a few tense moments, it projected a luminous message into the air:

{Affinity – Spatial 94%}

A brief hush filled the throne room. The Baroness inhaled sharply, eyeing James with renewed interest. “Quite the gem you are, after all,” she said. “Spatial affinites above eighty percent are rare. You’re at ninety-four.”

James swallowed, uneasy about the intensity of her gaze. Spatial magic, from what he knew about it from his life on earth is it could lead to powerful teleportation or dimension-altering abilities, depending on how it was trained. Realizing that the Baroness already intended to use him, James suppressed a shiver. He didn’t like being this valuable to someone with such an iron grip on her domain.

Elira gestured to Lysander. “Prepare the chamber for the binding. If the boy is so talented, we can’t risk him scurrying off. I want his loyalty secured.”

Lysander gave a short bow. “Yes, your grace.”

They left the throne room through a side passage hidden behind a thick crimson tapestry. This corridor was narrower, and the walls appeared older, bearing cracks and lichen that thrived in the dim, damp environment. Torches sizzled on iron sconces, creating dancing shadows that looked like writhing spirits.

The path descended into the deeper recesses of the keep. James found himself more and more uneasy with each step, each turn. If the main halls were underpopulated, these twisting catacombs were utterly deserted, the silence profound enough that James could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Eventually, Lysander led James into a circular chamber illuminated by what looked like magical sconces, their flames burning with a bluish tint. The floor was inscribed with concentric circles of runes. The walls were lined with shelves of books, scrolls, and ominous implements that might have been used in previous rituals. A slight smell of ozone hung in the air.

Baroness Elira entered from a different corridor, accompanied by four robed figures. Their faces were mostly concealed by cowls, but James could see faint glimmers of purple in their eyes, reminiscent of Lysander and the Baroness but much dimmer. They fanned out around the perimeter of the chamber, chanting softly under their breath.

Lysander took James’s arm, guiding him into the center of the runic circles. Some deep instinct told James to run, but he had no illusions about escaping. Even if he bolted, there was nowhere to hide in this labyrinth of corridors. And he had witnessed Joey’s testament about the soul-binding. If the Baroness could reduce him to cutting off his own finger, imagine what she could do to James.

“You might be frightened,” the Baroness said, stepping onto the outer circle of runes. “That’s natural. But do not struggle. This ritual will hurt. That’s also natural. If you attempt to flee or resist, it will only become more unpleasant. Submit to the soul bind, and I promise you will live comfortably within my keep and share in my future plans. Understood?”

James’s mind raced. He had that buzzing in the back of his skull, the one that indicated something crucial was at play. Remembering his reincarnation, the fact that he had two souls merged, he sensed that maybe the soul bind wouldn’t fully subjugate him. If the Baroness assumed it had worked, he could bide his time, glean information, and plan a rebellion from within. This was an opportunity. A hideously dangerous one, but an opportunity all the same and the only one he could count on here.

He nodded slowly, expression deliberately resigned.

A small smile touched the Baroness’s lips. She turned to Lysander. “Seal the door. Let us begin.”