The Interrupted Truth

A guard stood outside.

Ariana sat in the tent, on the rough ground, wrists up and tied to a hard pole behind her. Her butt was numb from sitting for what felt like hours. But that worried her less than the thought of the Magus arriving tonight.

She pressed her palms together to stop them from trembling. The spell would bring everything into the open. What is she going to do?

What if her life as Princess Ariana is revealed? Normally, she’d be ecstatic about that cause everyone will finally see that she’s telling the truth.

However, for some inexplicable reason, a cold dread stayed coiled in her stomach. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, as if her lungs couldn’t draw enough air.

The tent flap rustled. A guard muttered something, and Clara slipped inside with a wooden tray holding a bowl of broth.

"They'd only let me bring this." Her eyes looked red and puffy. "Elena, everyone is saying you were the one who tried to kill the Princess. But I know it's not true, and I told them so."

Ariana forced a smile. "Clara, you shouldn't have."

"How can you say that?" Clara sat close and set the tray down. "I know you, Elena. I know you'd never do such a thing. Everyone is wrong. I might not know what's actually happening, but it's not you. It can't be."

Ariana examined Clara's worried expression, searching for any sign of guilt or intent. She wanted to see if Clara had deliberately given her the cloak.

Nothing.

Only worry, plain and simple, with exhaustion beneath it. Guilt struck Ariana in the chest, making her feel even worse.

"You shouldn't defend me so much. Or you will get dragged into this mess with me."

"You’re my best friend, and I’ll stand up to anyone for you," Clara said intensely, making tears blur Ariana's vision.

Who would have thought this ordinary servant would be the one to stand by her so steadfastly? What had she done to deserve it?

"Don't cry, Elena. Everything will turn out well in the end," Clara said gently. "Here, let me untie your hands so you can eat."

The thick ropes fell away. Ariana reached for the bowl with shaky hands, but Clara gently took it from her.

"I stole this from the kitchen earlier." Clara glanced at the tent door, then pulled a squashed half-loaf of bread from her apron. "I know you ate hardly anything this morning, and I couldn't bear to feed you just broth."

Her fingers worked swiftly, tearing the bread into the bowl. She scooped up a mix of soup and crumbs, blew on it three times, and held it out. "Say ah."

Ariana sniffled and did as she was told.

She had been wrong. It could never be Clara.

Around midnight, Ariana finally fell into a fitful sleep. Clara had to tie her wrists back, albeit loosely. Then two guards burst into the dim tent.

Confused, she was hauled to her feet and marched across the quiet camp. Off to the right, somewhere above the treeline, the sky seemed to flicker with a strange, swerving glow. For a moment it was there, then it was gone, leaving only a faint smell of lightning in the air.

Ariana did not ask what it was as if they'd give her an answer.

Torches burned at the entrance of the large royal tent. The guards pushed her inside.

She stumbled and crashed straight into Kaleb, who had apparently been waiting. He grabbed her arms and pushed her onto a stool in the tent. A wide circle was drawn in white chalk on the ground.

King Myde sat in a carved chair, looking grim. The Princess stood at his right with her arms folded, her face taut with a strange tension.

"The Magus has arrived," the King said. "Elena Moss, now we will learn the truth."

On cue, someone lifted the flap aside, and a young man walked in.

Ariana stared. This was Magus Alistair?

The Alistair she remembered was an old man with a beard like frayed rope and a permanent scowl. This man looked barely older than twenty-five. He wore a crimson tunic that flowed to his ankles. His sleek blond hair was cut into a sharp bob, framing his smooth, youthful face.

Maybe I'm misremembering. Maybe he has a son. She pushed the unease down, but the doubt stayed, small and cold.

To be honest, he didn't look like a master of arcane magic at all. He looked like an aristocrat summoned to court.

Then he smiled, and chills ran down her spine. It was a broad, empty smile, like a predator poised to dissect a rare insect. His teal-green eyes looked inhumanly cold.

"Your Majesty." Magus Alistair gave a small bow, his voice smooth and lilting. "I never expected to hear from you before the end of the Annual Magi Conference, sire." The annoyance in his tone was unmistakable.

King Myde rose. "I wouldn't have messaged you if it weren't urgent." His gaze was pointed. "I take it Kaleb briefed you via the Arcane Ledger?"

"Yes, my Liege." Magus Alistair eyed Ariana with a fascination she did not welcome. "Well then, let's get started, shall we?"

He circled her once, one hand stroking his chin, the other clasped behind his back. "First, some rules, since frightened subjects behave poorly without them.

"One. To search thoroughly, you must be awake, and that's why it's going to hurt. Falling asleep could make your brain feel like it's exploding, and you wouldn't want that, right?"

Ariana was seconds away from bursting into tears.

"Two. I'd advise you not to resist. The Revelation will make the pain ten times worse. Let me, and everyone, see what we came to see. Including the parts you have hidden from yourself."

Ariana's stomach tightened. "E-everyone?"

Magus Alistair drew a glass orb from his sleeve. It was the size of a fist, clear as water, with a faint blue light turning slowly at its core.

"Naturally. What use is a Memory Revelation if only I see it?" He set the orb before her. It lifted and hovered above her, humming. "Hold still, little maid. This might sting a bit."

Two cold fingers pressed against Ariana's temples.

At first there was only the cold, a thin, clean chill, like a coin laid against her skin. Then it sank in.

The pain began behind her eyes. It felt like a needle slowly sliding into the soft spot at the back of her skull. Then another, and another, until her whole head buzzed with pressure. Her teeth ached. A metallic taste flooded her mouth.

The orb turned white. A bright hologram bloomed above her, big and bold, for everyone to see.

I can feel it. He's pulling them out.

It wasn't like remembering. It was like having something dragged out of her by the roots, each memory peeling away with a wet, tearing sting. She tried to keep her eyes open, but the light was too sharp.

A kitchen in gray morning light. A plucked goose, a knife slipping. A girl laughing with Clara over a pot of burnt bread. A wooden spoon cracking across knuckles. A thin woman in a narrow bed, her hand falling slack.

Those aren't mine, Ariana thought wildly. Those are Elena's.

"Interesting," Alistair murmured, his fingers digging into her skull. "Go deeper."

A zap shot through her brain, white and hot, and ripped a gasp out of her. Her vision tilted. The tent seemed to stretch and swim, and her stomach rolled as if someone had spun her in a circle for too long.

The morning she woke in an unknown room. Her time in the dungeon. The shadow attacking her at the riverbank. Her own hand holding a folded paper, though the writing on it could not be seen.

"What's written there?" The Princess moved closer. "Why can't we see it?" Fear flickered in her eyes, so brief that Ariana wondered if she had imagined it.

"Let's see what can be done."

Alistair sent out another pulse.

This one was worse. It felt like a hand closing around her mind and squeezing. Her ears rang, a high, thin whine, and she heard herself cry out as if from far away. Her knees went weak. Warm wetness slid down her upper lip, and she realized her nose was bleeding.

Stop. Please stop.

On the hologram, the paper trembled. The message was beginning to turn clear, the first line sharpening, a single word almost readable...

The orb flickered. Once. Twice. Three times.

The Magnus glanced up. "What...?"

It shuddered. With a loud crack, the orb shattered. It made the Princess shriek. Thousands of shards turned to smoke and vanished.

The pain cut off all at once. Ariana sagged on the stool, gasping, her head ringing like a struck bell.

At once, the tent plunged into darkness, while raw energy hummed in the air.

"Well," Magnus Alistair said dryly. "This changes things."

Far beyond the camp's border, the assassin entered through a secret entrance. She slipped into a small, hollow ruin.

Inside, cloaked and hooded figures lined the edge of the room, their faces lost in shadow.

At the far end of the chamber, an unknown figure sat on a stone seat that resembled a throne. Darkness and a subtle distortion that made the eyes swim obscured his features.

"Speak." His voice carried a weight that pressed on everyone in the room.

The assassin dropped to one knee. "Elena Moss failed to complete the task. Instead of letting the arrow strike the Princess, the girl pushed her out of its path."

Her tone lowered, edged with disdain. "Her foolish actions led the King to summon Magus Alistair. He performed a Memory Revelation that might have uncovered the note I gave to Elena. So I had to use the Antipode Ring to cause a disruption and destroy the Prism of Recall."

It felt as if the air in the room was being sucked out. At once, every figure sank to their knees, feeling the fury of their master as he stood.

"That useless girl! How dare she try to ruin things for me? I should have had her killed instead."

"Pardon my intrusion, Master, but I believe Elena Moss could still be useful to our plans."

"How?"

"From my observations, Elena genuinely seems to have lost her memory. She remembers nothing of the task, or of me. But she read the note, and it was enough to frighten her into obeying. With her mind blank, I have tested and found she can be easily controlled. I think we can spare her a little while longer."

Silence. Three tense beats.

"It had better be as you say."

"You have my word, Master. To make this work, we need to stop the Magnus. He must not try another Revelation on Elena when they return to Roseberst.”

"Well then." The figure settled back onto his stone seat. "We simply have to make sure the Magnus does not get there alive."