Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 428. Not Paranoid
"She wasn't alone. There were shadows behind her. Not people—just outlines. And she had this mirror. Old. Ornate. With carvings I couldn't read. And she was speaking into it. Not at it. Into it."
Angel stayed silent. Listening.
Jane's throat tightened. "I couldn't hear the words clearly, but I know how it made me feel. Cold. Wrong. Like something was peeling the skin from the air. She said my brother's name. Then my father's. And the mirror—it pulsed."
She paused again. Her voice got smaller.
"I told my brother. He laughed. Told me I was dreaming."
Rose's jaw clenched.
Jane's gaze dropped. "The next day, he changed."
Angel sat forward now, his elbows on his knees. "How?"
"He stopped calling me 'sister.' Started calling me 'asset.' In front of people. Said I should be married off for trade. For alliances. When I confronted him—he said he didn't remember ever treating me differently."
She looked up again, and this time her eyes were glassy. "That's when I knew."
Rose exhaled slowly. "What about your father?"
Jane smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "He smiled at her like she was a gift from the gods. Like he hadn't lost his first wife to war, like I hadn't buried my real mother's bones myself. He followed everything she said. He forgot me too."
Her fingers curled in her lap.
"I left that night."
Angel's voice was low. "And no one stopped you?"
"Oh, they did," she whispered. "But not hard enough."
A flicker of pride passed behind Rose's gaze.
Angel leaned back again. "You said her mirror pulsed with dark light?"
Jane blinked. "Yes."
He met Rose's eyes. "That's relic-class. Abyss-touched."
Claire stepped forward, her posture tighter now, eyes no longer merely curious—but alert. "Then it's not just politics," she said quietly. "She's channeling something."
Jane frowned, her gaze shifting toward Claire. "What does that mean?"
Angel's voice dropped an octave—heavier, deliberate. "It means… you weren't paranoid. You were right."
He stood as he spoke, casting a long shadow across the parlor's firelit walls.
"And if your stepmother is using that mirror to control minds—or worse, twist the line of succession—then Pontus isn't just corrupt. It's compromised."
Jane's face paled, but before she could speak again, Angel took a slow step forward.
"I need to ask you one more thing, Jane."
He stopped just a few feet from her and lifted his hand.
His palm opened.
And the dark power bloomed.
It shimmered like smoke soaked in ink—deep, rippling with faint red veining, and writhing in shapes that almost resembled wings or claws if you stared too long. It didn't glow. It devoured the light around it.
Jane gasped.
The shadows cast by the flames danced wildly as the aura shifted. The room's warmth faltered.
"Is this what you saw?" Angel asked, his voice even. Not threatening. Just precise. Focused.
Jane froze.
Her eyes locked onto the dancing magic in his hand, pupils dilating. Her breath stuttered—just for a second—but Rose saw it. And stepped in.
"Don't worry," Rose said gently, her voice a softer contrast to the darkness. "He won't hurt you."
Jane blinked, gaze darting to her. Then back to the pulsing dark energy twisting above Angel's palm.
She didn't speak.
Not immediately.
But then—slowly—she shook her head.
"Similar," she whispered. "But… different."
Angel closed his hand.
The magic winked out instantly, like a candle snuffed in a vacuum. The warmth returned. The air stopped pressing against their skin.
His brows pulled slightly together. "How?"
Jane hesitated. "I don't—"
"You don't have to lie," Angel said, voice calm but heavy. "I won't get angry."
She looked at him again.
And nodded.
"It was similar," Jane said finally. "It looked like dark magic. But… hers didn't move like yours."
Angel tilted his head. "Didn't move?"
"I don't know how to describe it." Jane's fingers clenched on her knees. "Yours… it reacts. It pulses with you. When you're calm, it's calm. When you spoke just now, it surged. Like it's part of you."
Rose folded her hands beneath her chin. "And hers?"
Jane's expression turned distant. "Hers moved without her. Like it had a will of its own. Like… she was just holding a leash. But it wasn't tamed. It didn't care who she was."
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