Lord Darian's footsteps echoed hollowly as he strode from the room, each step a battle between duty and desire. The image of Aelindra's broken form burned in his mind, her pain etched into every line of her body. His hands clenched at his sides, itching to reach out, to offer comfort, to tend to her wounds. But he couldn't. He mustn't.

The weight of generations of hatred and fear pressed down upon him, threatening to crush him beneath their expectations. Elves were the enemy. Magic was a corruption to be stamped out. These truths had been drilled into him since birth. And yet... Flashes of memory assaulted him: Aelindra's laughter as they played in the gardens as children, her quiet presence as he studied, her unwavering loyalty as she grew into her role as his servant. How could someone so integral to his life, someone he'd known longer than he could remember, be inherently evil?

Darian found himself in his study, pacing like a caged animal. Doubt gnawed at him, each thought more dangerous than the last. What if everything he'd been taught was wrong? What if magic wasn't to be feared, but understood? What if the elves' supposed tyranny was just another lie? He pressed his palms against his temples, trying to silence the traitorous whispers in his mind. Such thoughts were heresy, punishable by death. He was Lord Darian, a pillar of human society. Aelindra was just a servant, a tool, a... pet. But even as he thought it, the words rang hollow. She was so much more than that. She always had been.

Lord Darian's jaw clenched as he entered the main hall, his turbulent thoughts instantly masked behind a facade of noble indifference. The Inquisitor stood there, a vulture in human form, his eyes glittering with barely concealed satisfaction. The air seemed to chill around him, as if the very warmth of life shrank from his presence.

"Lord Darian," the Inquisitor's voice oozed false courtesy, "I trust you find your... pet... appropriately chastened?" He didn't wait for a response before continuing, "The Church has decreed that I shall remain here to oversee the elf's... rehabilitation. We must ensure the taint of magic is truly purged, after all."

Darian's mind raced, panic clawing at his chest. The Inquisitor, here? In his home? Watching. Judging. Waiting for any misstep. He fought to keep his voice steady, to betray nothing of the turmoil within. "Of course, Inquisitor. House Darian is honored by your... diligence." The words tasted like ash in his mouth. "I'll have quarters prepared for you immediately."

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As Lord Darian turned to leave, the Inquisitor's voice slithered after him, dripping with malice and thinly veiled threat.

"Oh, and Lord Darian? Do remember that your little elven plaything is now property of the Church. Any... improper attachments would be most unfortunate. For both of you."

The words struck Darian like a physical blow. His steps faltered for just a moment, his back stiffening as white-hot rage surged through him. His vision blurred, tinged with red, as he fought the urge to whirl around and strike the smug bastard down where he stood. Property of the Church? Aelindra was his! His servant, his...

But he couldn't finish the thought. Couldn't put a name to what Aelindra truly was to him. With supreme effort, Darian forced himself to keep walking, his nails digging crescents into his palms. The Inquisitor's chuckle followed him down the hall, a reminder of the precarious position they were now in. One wrong move, one slip of control, and everything - his house, his life, Aelindra - would come crashing down around him.

As the inquistor settled into his room, he notified Lord Darian that his questioning of Aelindra would begin shortly.

Lord Darian stood rigid, his face a carefully composed mask as he addressed the Inquisitor. "Your Reverence, I trust you'll conduct your questioning with... discretion. The elf has proven a valuable servant to my household."

The Inquisitor's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Concern for your property, Lord Darian? How... pragmatic of you." His eyes glinted with barely concealed amusement. "Rest assured, I'll handle the creature with all the care such a... prized possession deserves."

Darian's jaw tightened imperceptibly. "I merely wish to ensure that justice is served without... undue complications." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "The King values stability above all else."

"Indeed he does," the Inquisitor drawled. "Which is precisely why I must insist on privacy for this delicate matter. Surely you understand?"

A moment of tense silence stretched between them. Finally, Darian inclined his head stiffly. "Of course. I'll leave you to your duty." He turned to go, then hesitated. "I trust you'll inform me when you've... concluded your business?"

"Naturally, my lord," the Inquisitor replied, his tone dripping with false courtesy. "I wouldn't dream of keeping you in suspense."

As Darian walked away, his measured steps betrayed none of the turmoil churning beneath his stoic exterior.