Ryker moved like a shadow through the inner courtyards, the polished stones amplifying the silence of the late hour. He arrived at Spire Gate 3, the secluded service entrance to the Royal Spire, finding Captain Emrys waiting for him. She was in a dark, practical uniform, her posture radiating controlled impatience.
"Commander Thorne," she greeted, her voice a low, precise murmur that permitted no echo. "Your Protocol Azimuth was received. You stated 'Child Subject' and 'Elder Override.' I need the documented justification for such high treason against the Elders' warrant."
"I have it," Ryker confirmed, stepping closer. "General Thax is operating under 'Maximum Interrogation Protocol,' but the subject is a child, and the treatment is beyond cruel." He had already said this earlier but he had to start from somewhere.
He leaned in, delivering the crucial information that Jonathan had shared and that the healer had confirmed. "She is incapable of providing any information because she is suffering from comprehensive amnesia. Her short-term memory is intact, but her past is gone. It's a void."
Emrys's steel gaze held his. "Amnesia alone does not halt the Elders. They care about confession, not causality."
"It's not trauma-induced amnesia," Ryker clarified, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Our physician in the East Wing performed a deeper magical scan. He found an ancient, high-level magical construct deep in her core—a Seven-Point Containment Lock. We believe it is directly enforcing the amnesia and suppressing her true nature. She is being sacrificed to protect the Elders' political failure, and her mind is being held hostage by this unknown magic."
He watched Emrys's face for reaction. As the Head of the Royal Guards, she was politically astute and knew the grave significance of ancient magic. She processed the information without flinching, but the air around her grew colder.
"A containment spell that regulates memory," Emrys murmured. "That is an immense liability. We must assume the entity who cast that seal is still out there, and that any attempt to break it will be catastrophic."
"Exactly," Ryker affirmed. "Which is why we cannot leave her in the Elders' hands. We need to move her now."
She turned her gaze away from him briefly towards the moon. Then taking her communicator, she made an arrangement.
"The transfer is arranged," Emrys confirmed, her focus shifting entirely to logistics. "My personal detail will move her to the Isolation Block at the Garrison, as requested. The paperwork lists her as 'Disposal of Contaminated Research Material'—a final, discrete transfer."
She then addressed the political maneuvering. "I will inform the Crown immediately. I will state that the prisoner is medically unfit for interrogation due to severe, confirmed amnesia which is complicated by a high-level magical suppression field. I will not mention the terms 'Lycan' or 'Seven-Point Lock.' That information remains classified to the three of us and your source. Understood?"
"Understood," Ryker confirmed. Protecting the severity of the secret was paramount.
"Go, Commander," Emrys commanded. "The transport will move in the hour. Do not be near the Citadel. You need to establish an alibi of normalcy."
They parted ways, Ryker vanishing back into the shadows while Emrys moved toward the inner spires to perform her dangerous briefing.
Ryker's Sanctuary.
Ryker didn't stop until he reached his private residence in the Officer's Quarter, a comfortable, two-bedroom house he lived in alone. The interior was quiet and orderly, a stark contrast to the chaos of the Citadel.
He immediately went to the washroom and stripped, stepping into a hot shower. He examined his torso, a tired smile touching his lips. The deep wound he had sustained during the initial re-securement operation—a gash that should have required weeks of recovery—was already a faint pink line. His own accelerated healing was always a grim comfort, a personal thrill he carried.
He dressed in fresh, simple sleeping clothes and tried to get into bed, but his mind was a whirling storm of Lycans, ancient seals, political treason, and the image of a bruised, innocent girl. He stared at the ceiling, sleep an impossible luxury.
A sudden, sharp knock on the heavy front door broke the silence of the night.
Ryker frowned, checking his timepiece. It was barely 01:30 hours. Who would dare disturb him, the Commander, at this hour? It certainly wouldn't be good news. He pulled on a robe and moved cautiously to the door.
He looked through the security viewer. Outside stood Captain Emrys, now flanked by two uniformed Royal Guards, their faces grim and unreadable.
He unlatched the door. "Captain? What happened? Did the transfer..."
Emrys cut him off, her eyes holding an urgency that transcended the night's earlier tension.
"The Crown received my report. The Queen has moved faster than any of us anticipated, Commander," Emrys said, her voice low and absolute. "You are not safe, and you are not in the clear. The Crown wants to see you personally. Now."