Shortly after his meeting with Esteban, Adam summoned Solara to what had once been his jail cell. It made for a stark contrast from the opulent glory of his throne room. Now that he thought about it, there was probably something insulting about meeting with a commoner in the throne room – and then inviting the Heiress of Gama to a musty prison.
Solara didn’t seem to mind. “Lord Adam,” she said, with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”
It had been just over a day since they last met, yet she greeted him as if they hadn’t seen each other in months. Proper etiquette, that. Adam wondered how much effort she’d put into learning those courtly manners. More than me, definitely. “I have to ask...how much are you willing to risk?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You want me to trust you,” Adam began. Within the same breath, he placed a drinking glass beside a seat, gestured at her to sit down, then positioned himself behind his canvas. “How much are you willing to risk for your claim of honesty?”
“My life,” Solara promptly answered. She idly swirled her wine glass, eyeing its contents with an uninterested gaze. “You know my goals. I truly think that siding with you is the best course of action available to me.”
“Are you willing to be cursed by the Ghost again?”
Solara’s face went pale, her grip around her cup grew tighter, and her mouth hung open, just for a moment. The very next second, her face was impassive once more, close to arrogant. It remained pale all the same. “That depends. Would you get rid of it again?”
Quite the poker face you have there. Although the elf refused to show it, Adam could tell the idea terrified her. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to live alone in that tower, isolated from her father, with only a malevolent curse for company. Its removal was akin to a miracle; something that never should have been possible. And here he was, asking her to be cursed anew, as if her escape from the tower was nothing more than the product of a delusional mind.
Feel like a scumbag for even asking...but I won’t take it back. “I swear I’ll get rid of it,” Adam promised her.
“And that will make you trust me?”
“Yes.” Adam tilted his head. “You know how my ability works – how I really need to understand my target for the painting to succeed. So, first, I’ll give you the Curse back. Then I’ll try to make a new painting of you, and in that painting, I’ll include the idea that you aren’t going to betray me. If I’m wrong about that, then your soul won’t return to you.”
Solara laughed weakly. “Ah...so this is what you mean about risking my life. If I stand by what I said, I should have nothing to fear, yes?”
“Correct.”
“Then do as you will,” she declared, lifting up her chin and smirking. “I have told no lies.”
Out of courtesy, and as an apology for making her go through this once more, Adam didn’t point out that he could see her fingers trembling slightly. If our positions were switched, I don’t think I would’ve kept as good of a poker face as you. “Let’s get started, then.”
Adam didn’t take long. While he slowed down enough to give her time to mentally prepare, the first painting was intended to be bad – he could’ve doodled a couple stick figures and called it a day. Afterwards, he would call upon his Wager ability, risk the Stained Flames that the Ghost haunted, and fail.
Hmm. Maybe he shouldn’t go with stick figures, then. Something more abstract. Something that he couldn’t possibly get right by accident.
Solara...let’s see...how do I get you wrong?
“Back when I first painted you,” Adam began, “I thought of you as some lady in a tower. Trapped, desperate, and hopelessly hoping for death before her curse could trouble the city. Guess I really went for the most storybook version I could think of, eh? The beautiful, selfless woman who only wanted her curse to not hurt the people she cared about.”
“Very generous assumptions you had, my lord,” Solara said, smiling faintly. The thought seemed to distract her from what was to come. “That was your best attempt?”
“Hey, I didn’t have much to work with back then,” Adam complained, prompting the elf to laugh in response. “But I was wrong. You aren’t selfless. You’re one of the greediest, most ambitious lunatics I’ve ever met. At no point in that tower did you ever consider giving up, did you? The entire time you spent there, you were thinking of what you’d do once you got out.”
“Careful,” Solara warned him, though her smile never left her lips. “If you keep up like that, you’ll paint me right.”
“Oh, don’t worry – I’ve wagered on a painting of you as a fragile, kind soul that would pray every day for help, wouldn’t hurt a fly, and is afraid of needles.”
“That will do it.”
“Let us hope.”
When Adam finished his parody of Solara, he allowed himself just a moment of hesitation. “I promise it’ll be quick,” he said, in a somber tone.
“Aye, my lord,” Solara nodded. “It will be.” She hesitated. “There is no question in my mind that the Curse will take over my body as soon as it enters. I will not have the power to fight it off. If it feels like the time I first received that Talent, then...”
“Don’t worry. I can handle it.”
He flipped his canvas around.
The effect was immediate, and this time Adam was prepared for it. He watched the line of electricity form between the two of them, the Curse gradually transferring from him to the other. Solara flashed him a confident smile, or a facsimile of one, and the jolt hit them both at the same time.
Adam felt his knees weaken, nearly causing him to fall backward. Guess there’s no getting used to this. He couldn’t complain, though.
Not when Solara had it much worse.
“PAINTER,” the Ghost cried out. “PAINTER!”
Solara’s elven body didn’t fully distort like last time. Monstrous veins swirled around her face, like an eel swimming right beneath the surface of a lake, twisting and turning, at times threatening to break into the outside world. Her eyes widened, and her hands turned into claws.
“You have....no idea...the feeling...being given the sweet Ink...only to have it taken away...worse...than...death...” The Ghost’s voice had a reverb to it, as if many iterations of Solara’s voice were layered on top of each other. “You will pay...this time there will be...NO...ESCAPE...GIVE—ME—YOUR—INK!”
As it had in the past, the Ghost leaped at Adam. This time, however, it didn’t appear interested in keeping him alive. The creature straightened its legs, bouncing off of the air itself to gain further speed, entering a ferocious lunge that was close to flight. Adam didn’t move a single step. Otherworldly claws stretched out towards his throat–
–and bounced right off.
The Ghost’s reaction was so intense that it collapsed to the ground, holding its claw as if afraid the limb would run away in fear. “What did you–”
“Have you forgotten, Ghost?” Adam looked down on the monster, coldly regarding it like he would an insect. “Or maybe you don’t know where you are. Recognize this room?” He opened his arms wide and gestured around them. “Of course you wouldn’t – so let me fill you in. This used to be a jail. Naturally, it was built to be soundproof by a Talented builder. Do you know what that means?”
“Human–what–are–you–?”
“It means that even if you cry to your gods for help, they won’t hear.”
Adam flicked his wrist upward. A visible blue wind swirled around the room, once, then twice, before seizing the Ghost by its hands and forcing it upward. The motion didn’t stop when the creature stood up – not until its feet were no longer touching the floor. “I think you forgot who I am. Understandable, considering how many times you’ve died. Allow me to relieve you of your ignorance; let’s speak of who and where.”
Adam curled two fingers inward to choke the monster. “I am Lord Adam of Penumbria, and you are within my domain this time, you fucking bastard!”
He pushed the monster against the prison wall. Adam leisurely walked toward it, pressure building with every step. After just two, the Ghost choked, coughing up a dark blue substance that wasn’t blood. Its eyes were full of fear, alternating between being unable to tear themselves away from Adam and desperately looking for anything else to fixate on. Finally, the monster’s features twisted into a manic, nervous smile as it noticed the burning candle beside them, a nervous smile blooming on its face.
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“Have you forgotten, Painter? The flames are my domain!” It started to turn its body into a hazy, gaseous substance. “I shall flee, and you will never see this woman–”
“Kneel,” Adam ordered.
Adam’s lordly blue wind snuffed out the candle, forcibly turning every shred of hazy gas back into the creature as it solidified itself. “You are in the presence of Penumbria’s lord,” he stated. “Do not stand before you are granted permission.”
“I–”
Adam’s hand closed, and the Ghost’s mouth closed shut as well. “Don’t speak until told to, either.” It was forced to the ground, both knees smashing against the hard stone, hissing in pain and frustration.
Unmatched power flowed through Adam’s body, like a nostalgic resonance. Aspreay’s soul is singing to me, he thought, absently. These motions, these moves..they all came naturally to him, as if he had always known how to be a lord.
“Be grateful,” he intoned, as the creature writhed. “If you weren’t in Solara’s body, you’d be much worse-off right now.” Adam still resented it for how their last fight had gone. Partially because of how badly it injured him, and partially how it made him consider using the Lord Talent – sacrificing Panumbria’s people – to save himself.
And oh, did it feel positively exhilarating to be able to pay it back in kind. “Get comfortable. You’re going to shut your mouth, sit tight, and wait patiently as I finish this next painting.”
“W...wait! Are you...going to send me...back? NO! PAINTER! PLEASE! NO! NOT BACK THERE!”
Adam paid the Ghost no mind. He turned away from it, confident that it was pinned to the wall and couldn’t move. With a satisfied smile, he sat down to resume his sketch, brimming with confidence. His pessimism faded as he dared to hope that, just maybe, Solara really was trustworthy.
“PLEASE, PAINTER! I BEG! I BEG!”
Well now...Solara’s true soul. Let’s paint it, once again. He peered at the Ghost. Its appearance was too demonic to use as a reference, but gazing at the creature made Adam remember what Solara looked like. He wanted to give her a portrait worthy of admiration; last time was too much of a rush job.
Solara was as beautiful as Tenver was handsome, and the latter was apparently well-known in the Empire for his looks. Would Solara be equally famous if not for her elven heritage?
“–KILL ME! DON’T SEND ME BACK!”
More importantly, he wanted to portray her greed, her utter inability to settle for anything less than a spot at the top of the world. In truth, it was a trait that many would perceive as detrimental. Adam himself wasn’t a very ambitious person; he could never quite nail the aura of those people whose eyes were set on the top of the mountain, how their gaze sparkled with fanatical confidence.
And as a result, ever since he could remember, he’d admired those fanatical, self-confident, talented mavericks.
“–THE GODS GAVE YOU A GIFT! BEING FROM THE WORLD OF INK, I BEG YOU–”
Sometimes it got him burned, like with Eric. Yet even now, he couldn’t help but admire people like Solara, who seemed utterly disgusted at the idea of not ruling the world. The whims of fate had exterminated her kind, and its survivors were seen as beneath notice, like cockroaches reviled by all. Despite this, she still yearned for the top – for the ability to rule upon the world.
Why?
“–Please. PLEASE! PAINTER! I was human once too! Have mercy!–”
To protect her people from further injustice?
To gain everything she’d been denied when younger?
Adam thought it was a bit of both.
That uncontrollable, burning desire to have everything...and her uncompromising sense of self.
“–The Hangman punished me enough already!”
A woman who engaged with a Stained Talent out of her own free will would never betray someone to achieve her goals.
It’s not that Solara is incapable of murder or betrayal. Her ambition would be enough to see her through that. It’s that she thinks so highly of herself that she would refuse the idea...and see it as beneath her.
“–PLEASE!”
She had seemed sincerely offended when Adam suspected her of betraying him. At the time, he’d thought it was due to her honor being called into question.
On second thought, though, it wasn’t her honor that she minded being questioned – it was her skill. Yesterday, what she had really said was: ‘Do you truly think I’m so weak that I’d need to betray you to the Emperor?’
Yeah.
That looked right.
“I’m finished.”
“NO! DON’T–SEND–ME! KILL ME! SEND ME BACK TO THE PRISM INSTEAD! SEND ME–” The Ghost’s rambling panic reached its peak when Adam started approaching it, tablet in-hand. “STAY–AWAY!”
The Ghost fainted before Adam could reach it.
He didn’t pay it too much mind. Adam named the painting and walked up to the unconscious monster. “Sorry, Solara. I hope this isn’t rude.” He placed the tablet before her closed eyes, then lifted up her eyelids to force her unconscious body to look at it. “Hopefully this counts – would rather not have to wait until you wake up.”
Her vacant eyes gazed at the digital painting Adam had finished over three short hours.
The Elf Who Wanted the World
Quickly, an otherworldly line of electricity formed between the two once again, the Stained Talent returning into his tablet. Adam held Solara gently in his arms, and did not forcibly wake her up as he’d done last time.
It was nearly two hours later that she awoke. When her eyelids slowly opened, she took note of Adam’s face, then of his arms. Her mouth widened into a satisfied smile, and she curled closer to his arms, letting out a deep breath. “How long did it take?”
“About five hours. Three to paint, two for you to wake up.” Adam waited until after she’d nodded sleepily before asking, “Do you feel okay?”
“Mostly.” She yawned. “I died just now, you know?”
“Ah. Was I too harsh during the fight?”
“No, it was when the Curse entered my body. I was warned before by the Dark Sorcerer that most people have a high chance of death when receiving a new Talent.” Solara let out another yawn. “What a wretch of a day.”
“Guess that means I can’t use this method to test how honest other people are,” Adam muttered. “I did think it was a possibility...that’s why I waited a day until trying this. That said, could I try to kill someone by giving them Talents on purpose? No, the survival risk is too high, and at that point–”
“Lord Adam,” Solara interrupted. “Do you trust me now?”
“I do,” he said. For now, at least. He wished he could trust her more than that after putting her through so much, but the lingering scars within were still telling him to keep his guard up. “And you can call me Adam.”
“Adam, then.” Solara’s smile wavered as she shivered. Despite her bravado, the curse seemed to have taken a toll on her. “May I be direct in case I lose consciousness?”
“Of course.”
“Very well. In that case...I believe Lord Tenver and I have the same contact. It’s a man with an airship that can dive underwater, allowing safe passage into the Puppet Mines. I suggest you speak to Lord Tenver, but don’t tell him that you’re aware of what his secret route is. Use that to–”
She stopped. It was so sudden that Adam grew concerned until he saw the heaving of her breath. You were so tired...but you still wanted to make plans with the little consciousness you had left in you. Even in that condition, your mind was still set on your goals, huh?
“Solara...” Adam shook his head, laughing quietly so as not to disturb her well-deserved sleep. “You really are crazy.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her.