Lanni, Trema, and the immortals met within the spartan confines of the barrack’s office, determined to address the unfolding events. “So, has the issue in Thager been resolved?” Trema inquired, concern etching her features. “It is,” Lanni confirmed with an air of subdued triumph. “Trean fell for our ruse. I’ve received word from New Trito, and he’s safely locked away again—this time, for good.” Morina, her eyes scanning the others, asked, “You didn’t reveal what you are?” “No, that wasn’t necessary,” Lanni replied, her voice steady, betraying no hint of doubt. “Keteel intervened before it came to that. He summoned Uncle Ter.” “Keteel?” Trema echoed, her confusion apparent. “My grandson,” Lanni clarified, a touch of pride seeping into her tone despite the gravity of the situation. Kritalla, his brow furrowing with disapproval, interjected, “I can’t believe you used your chosen for bait.” Lanni’s expression hardened, the steel in her resolve clear. “I went power mad to protect my family. There’s very little I wouldn’t do to protect them.” “I thought you were cured.” Trema protested, his voice laced with worry. Lanni met her gaze squarely, “You don’t cure insanity. With Drepal’s help, I con-trol it. It’s why we’re seldom together.” The group had explained Drepal to the squad. All took it in stride. Trema constant-ly wanted to know who he was talking to. It was mostly Lanni, though Drepal was close enough to being awake to know what was happening. Chapado, refocusing on the task at hand, stated matter-of-factly, “One potential threat is now eliminated. He’s one less concern for us to contend with.” The rest of the group nodded in agreement, their minds already turning to the next challenge. “How’s the testing going?” Captain Trema inquired, his voice hinting at a mix of concern and impatience. “Progress is slow. Lanni keeps getting distracted too easily,” Drepal reported, frowning slightly. “I do not,” Lanni protested immediately, her tone defensive, indicating she felt unjustly accused. “Your feelings are causing problems?” Morina asked. “Have Drepal run the tests.” “It won’t help.” Lanni countered swiftly, a hint of frustration in her voice. “She likes him too.” “I do, but I’m more professional,” Drepal asserted, her voice steady and confi-dent. “Both of you, behave and get the job done. The Yarbs are planning something, and we need to be ready. Or I’ll contact the general and have you replaced,” Kritalla in-terjected firmly, clearly ready to enforce consequences. Lanni sighed, “Things aren’t that bad. There’s just no pattern. Spells we have. The stronger the spell, the less resistance. He’s less resistant to mortal magic than he is immor-tal. And he’s less resistant to augmented magic.” Chapado said analytically, “Given that there are no known Ertonian Augmenters in our ranks, it would stand to reason that a resistance to such magic wouldn’t naturally develop.” Kritalla’s expression turned incredulous. “What do you mean, no Ertonian Aug-menters? And what do you consider me to be?” “Not a full blood, not from Lerton. You get your augmenting ability from your human side,” she clarified. “So it’s the charms that’s the problem?” Captain Trema sought clarification, trying to pinpoint the root of the anomaly. Lanni nodded, “He either lowers the usage or drains them completely, but only sometimes, and it doesn’t matter what spell.” “And what charms have you been using? Ones of you made?” Captain Trema in-quired, his curiosity piqued. “They’re a variety I’ve collected over the years that I don’t mind losing,” Lanni explained. “Perhaps it’s not the spell but the caster,” Chapado suggested. “Make some charms and have others make them, and use a few old ones you know who made them.” Lanni agreed with a nod, “That’s my next step. It’ll give me more chances to cast. Lady Barta doesn’t like me casting in the kitchen.” she added ruefully. “She caught you?” Trema asked, one eyebrow raised. Lanni recounted her misadventure with a wry smile, “I had seven levitation spells going and I was making a pot of soup boil. And I lit the stove.” “You were doing all that at once?” Trema asked, both impressed and concerned. Lanni shrugged a twinge of pride in her voice. “I need to cast. The energy builds up something awful if I don’t.” “But to channel nine spells at the same time?” “There’s a reason for the legends of the white dragons,” Lanni said pointedly, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “Where’s that ring you use to drain yourself,” Chapado asked, concern evident in her tone. Lanni’s expression turned sheepish. “Jahree wiped it out. It was almost spent.” “How’s your tattoo?” Kritalla asked, his gaze softening as he looked at Lanni. Lanni frowned, her fingers going to the shoulder that bore the tattoo. The tattoo was more than just a mark. She’d received it long ago when she joined the Baj-tisk drag-on clan to study magic. It wasn’t just a symbol of permission but a connection to her her-itage—a reminder of who she really was. No one had known she was a dragon back then, and the tattoo had given her safe passage. Even after the kingdoms merged, she kept it. It was of her father, done by Nim, Tey’s grandfather—an artist without equal. Lanni’s first husband, who had come from a world called Earth, once compared Nim’s drawings to the photographs made by their cameras, capturing every detail with impossible precision. But Nim’s work was more than art. It was irreplaceable. Magic bound it to her, allowing it to survive most of her shed-dings. If it ever faded, an augmenter could renew it—Kritalla or her children had always helped with that. “Let me see,” Kritalla offered, gently touching Lanni’s shoulder. Lanni turned slightly, letting him examine it. “It’s fine, just the usual fade. I add-ed a bit to it,” Kritalla said after a moment. “Thanks.” Kritalla smiled. “No problem. I don’t think he’s doing any damage.” “Good.” Lanni relaxed a little. The thought of anything happening to the tattoo was unsettling. Kritalla shifted gears, his tone more business-like. “Now, what about Shan’s train-ing?” “He’s working hard. Most of the time, he’s got control, but I’ve startled him out of it a few times,” Lanni admitted. “He’s improving, though. Let Zan know I’m planning to test Shan in his sleep.” Trema raised an eyebrow. “Shan probably won’t even notice you’re there. He doesn’t sleep with his charms on half the time. “He’s slept in my room a few times to avoid waking Shan up. I can let you know next time that happens.” “Perfect.” Lanni nodded, already planning her next move. “Let me know when.” Why is Zan’s snoring so bad?” Chapado inquired with a tinge of concern in her voice. “Do you reckon he should speak with Loka about it?” The truth, as it was swiftly clarified, is that Zan doesn’t snore. “He breathes. Oc-casionally, he’ll make a sound or two, but nothing that would bother someone with nor-mal hearing capabilities. It’s just that Shan’s hearing is exceedingly acute,” Trema ex-plained. “I’m considering having him bunk with me when I move people around and redo the schedule. I’m still working things out. Turning to Lanni, he requested, “Can you check Zan’s hearing charms for him? If Jarhee’s draining things, he may lose them.” Understanding the importance of the task, Lanni nodded in agreement. “Of course. Like I said, I need chances to cast.” “He has two pairs. He keeps the extra in a silk-lined copper box to protect them from Jahree. Maybe you should test to see if that makes a difference.” Trema suggested. Lanni provided an update on that matter, “I’ve already conducted tests. The box has an effect, but the two must be used together.” “Do you still have your collar?” Morina asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. Lanni frowned, folding her arms across her chest. “Yes. Why?” She didn’t like where this conversation was headed. The collar Morina referred to was no ordinary piece of jewelry. Crafted from cop-per and lined with silk, Lanni used it to temper her magic during nightmares. Copper had a way of disrupting magic, searing through spells like a hot knife through butter. It burned beings of magic like dragons and elves. The silk lining, though, insulated the wearer from its bite, making it a delicate balance between restraint and safety. Lanni had used it when she couldn’t trust herself. Still, she hadn’t needed it for a while. “I was wondering,” Morina said thoughtfully, her fingers toying with the edge of her sleeve, “how it would affect Jahree.” Lanni raised an eyebrow. “You think what he’s doing is magic?” She didn’t try to hide her skepticism. Morina shrugged lightly. “I’m curious.” Kritalla laughed, a sound like gravel scraping on stone. “You’ve been spending too much time with your sister.” His voice was teasing, but his eyes held a more profound concern, the kind he didn’t usually voice. Trema, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward. “And what about the kid’s magic? How’s that coming along?” “All three have started showing signs,” Chapado said, his voice steady, though his expression tightened with the weight of responsibility. “Shri’s been starting fires—unintentionally, of course. I’ve got a shield on her bed until she can get it under control. She’s the strongest of the three by far.” Trema nodded, but his eyes sharpened at the mention of Shri. “Shan hinted she might be an augmenter. Is she?” Chapado hesitated. “I can’t test for that yet. I’m working with the assumption she is, though. I’ve thought about asking Lady Barta for help. She’s trained and might have insight.” “No.” Trema cut in firmly. “Barta will just convince them magic’s dangerous, make them afraid to use it. We can’t afford that. Shan nearly has control. Start working with him again. Put the others with him and let them train together. Kritalla can assist if you need it. I’ll cover extra shifts.” “I don’t sleep much, anyway,” Lanni offered, leaning back in her chair, trying to sound nonchalant. “I can take a night shift. Jahree’s passed out food before.” Trema shook his head. “No. You’re the cook. You will cook and sleep at night like a normal person. You need it.” “I really don’t.” Lanni waved it off, but Kritalla was already giving her that look. “Annlonna,” Kritalla said, his voice dropping into that firm, an almost paternal tone he used when he was serious, “do you remember the last time you went several days without sleep?” “No,” Lanni said almost too quickly. “Exactly. You were so out of it that you were hallucinating. And before that?” Lanni’s frown deepened. “I had a nightmare.” “And your lightning spell blew up the bed.” Kritalla didn’t miss a beat. “Then there was that time you went three or four months without rest. What happened then?” Lanni sighed. “I went power mad.” “Right. You will sleep. Daily. I don’t care if you see me as your mother’s uncle, your adoptive grandfather, your ex-boss, or your father’s best friend. Whatever shepol you want to claim me as I care about you. We are not letting you ruin yourself. If I have to, I will talk to the prince-general to have you recalled. I’ll get Loka’s help if I have to.” “I’ll sleep,” Lanni muttered, knowing she was beaten. “I didn’t mean I wouldn’t. You don’t need me daily.” Trema glanced around the room, shifting the topic as tension eased. “And what have we found out about the locals?” “Rantar’s sleeping with half the servants,” Trema said dryly. “He’s not happy that Lanni picked Jahree over him.” Kritalla turned toward her. “Did he make advances?” Lanni smirked. “Once. Broken wrists are a good deterrent.” “You broke Lord Rantar’s wrist?” Trema asked, eyebrows raised. Kritalla grunted. “Be glad it was her. Drepal would’ve gone for the neck.” Lanni laughed softly. “I made him think it was an accident. I’ve never acted so well in my life.” “Good,” Trema said, satisfied. “Jahan’s been asking why Lamin is hanging around so much. Says the horses don’t need that much care.” “He’s keeping an eye on Sifa,” Lanni explained. “Rantar won’t make a move if Lamin’s nearby. Nothing unusual going on in the stables, though. I’ve checked.” Trema nodded, thoughtful. “I’m surprised Barta puts up with his fooling around.” “If he’s with them, he’s not with her,” Lanni said. “It’s not a marriage of love. He suits her purposes.” “And what might those be?” Trema asked, intrigued. Lanni shrugged. “Power, I think. But I’m not sure.” Kritalla leaned back in his chair. “You had two dozen spying charms in your own home once. Why don’t you have any here?” “I’ve got recorders in every room,” Lanni said, “but there are some I don’t have the chance to check often. It’d look suspicious if I was in their bedroom too much.” “What do they look like? I can have the guards check during their rounds,” Trema offered. “I’ll make a list,” Lanni replied, “and give you replacements. Have Shan handle the ones downstairs.” Trema nodded and turned to Chapado. “What about silk gloves for Jahree? Would that help?” “He’d need to be encased in silk,” Chapado said, shaking her head. “It’s all about proximity.” Trema sighed. “I’ll talk with Shan.” Morina stood, smoothing down her top. “We should all get back to our duties.” There was a collective murmur of agreement as the group began to disperse, each with their own tasks. But as they moved, a quiet unease hung in the air—something un-spoken, just below the surface. #fantasy #magic #dragons #hiddenlands