Kind questions were the worst kind.
Cruel questions announced themselves. Political questions wore perfume. Kind questions entered quietly, took a seat near the wound, and waited for gratitude to unlock the door.
Professor Aldric Malcris specialized in kindness.
That was my first mistake.
Assuming he only specialized in soul magic was my second.
Chamber Seven looked nothing like an interrogation room, which confirmed its purpose immediately. Warm lamps. Polished wood. Three chairs arranged around a low table. Tea service prepared in advance. Shelves lined with student records and harmless educational manuals. No visible restraints. No visible weapons. No obvious ward pressure.
A room designed to make children forget power could sit down before it cut them.
