CHAPTER 193: CHAPTER 193 : SILENT BONDS

In the dense darkness of the ancient underground cells of Fresnes, Mordred now felt every pulse, every heartbeat, every subtle whisper emanating from the bodies infused with his blood. It was still bearable, a slight constant tension, but he already sensed that this sensory web would soon become an overwhelming mental burden. He would have to find another solution. Perhaps delegate part of the control, create alert thresholds... A less crude, more refined strategy.

But as he contemplated these possibilities in the almost total silence of the gallery, a particular pulsation reached him. Instantly, his attention sharpened. He closed his eyes and concentrated intensely on this precise signal.

Adrien.

A sudden acceleration of the heartbeat, a gentle warmth spreading through his limbs: Adrien was moving. And most importantly, he was moving toward the surface. Toward the outer camp, toward Alaryon.

Mordred frowned. Without moving from his dark gallery, he sat down slowly, leaned his back against the cold wall, and closed his eyes, diving deeply into this invisible link.

Adrien advanced with light steps in the darkness, escorted by a dragon with copper scales, discreet and silent. Once again, Alaryon had summoned him, and once again, Adrien felt a strange relief at this prospect. Despite his captivity, despite the ambient misery of the slave camp on the surface, these rare moments spent with Alaryon provided him with a breath of air, an almost reassuring sensation.

- "Enter, Adrien," Alaryon said in his deep, warm voice when they arrived at the tent.

The young boy entered slowly, head slightly inclined, heart beating with nervousness mixed with gratitude. Inside, everything was as it had been the last time: a richly laden table, illuminated by the soft glow of scented candles. Alaryon, seated with tranquil elegance, gestured for the young boy to sit across from him.

- "Eat. Don’t deprive yourself at all," he said, smiling. "You need strength."

Adrien barely hesitated before grabbing a piece of fresh bread and a bowl of warm soup with gentle spices. The comforting warmth of the meal slowly infiltrated his starved body, and he felt his shoulders gradually relax. Alaryon watched him silently, with an expression halfway between curiosity and gentleness.

- "You are different from the others, Adrien," Alaryon finally murmured while sipping a cup of dark wine. "I notice it more each day. You adapt better. You endure hardships better. Tell me, is it because you manage to keep hope?"

Adrien slowly raised his eyes, surprised by the question, but strangely reassured by the warmth in Alaryon’s golden gaze.

- "I... I think so. I don’t really know why, but I still manage to hope."

Alaryon slowly nodded, smiling with an almost paternal nuance.

- "Good. Hope is rare here. But sometimes, it comes from unexpected sources. Tell me, little one, how are your nights? Do you manage to sleep well despite all these... difficulties?"

Adrien instinctively lowered his eyes to his plate, his gaze veiled by visible hesitation. He nervously played with a piece of bread between his fingers.

- "My nights... are sometimes difficult," he admitted in an almost inaudible voice. "I have strange dreams. I sometimes feel..."

He stopped abruptly. A warm sensation rose in his throat. Was it really wise to talk about it? Yet Alaryon’s gaze, calm and understanding, seemed to encourage him to continue.

- "Go on, Adrien," Alaryon murmured, slightly tilting his head. "You can trust me."

The boy took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

- "Sometimes, I feel like... like someone is watching over me," he explained timidly, his words hesitant, fragile. "Like there’s a presence with me, even in the most complete darkness. It gives me the strength to believe that I’m not alone."

Alaryon straightened very slightly, his eyes narrowed, as if he had just grasped something important. He placed his cup on the table slowly, his voice becoming softer, more subtle.

- "This presence... does it speak to you? Does it guide you in some way?" he asked with an almost exaggerated delicacy.

Adrien frowned, trying to understand his own sensations.

- "Not really speak, but... I sometimes feel a reassuring warmth, like a hand placed on my shoulder. I feel that I can move forward despite everything. And sometimes, it’s as if... as if I knew exactly what I had to do."

Alaryon smiled more broadly, his golden eyes shining intensely in the candlelight.

- "That’s fascinating, Adrien," he murmured, leaning forward slightly. "Really fascinating. And you’ve never tried to know precisely where this sensation comes from? Or who might be its source?"

Adrien parted his lips to respond, his heart beating faster. He was going to speak, say what came naturally to him, talk about what he did a few nights a week...

But at that precise moment, something in him vibrated intensely.

A sudden, burning warmth rose from his chest, radiating throughout his body with an almost painful intensity. His heart suddenly accelerated, his eyes widened.

He felt a clear, strong, immediate presence.

Something had activated in the very blood that flowed in his veins. Something had come to life. Adrien felt his thoughts blur slightly, his voice blocked deep in his throat, as if held back by an external force, powerful and imperious.

Without understanding why, without having the slightest idea of what was happening to him, he knew, with absolute certainty, that he could no longer say anything. He could no longer reveal anything.

He remained there, motionless, frozen before Alaryon, while the warmth in his body slowly intensified.

Alaryon observed Adrien in silence for a few additional seconds, an expression of false concern slowly marking his face.

- "Adrien?" he asked in a voice that seemed genuinely worried. "Is everything alright?"

But Adrien said nothing. He could say nothing, do nothing. Mordred’s blood vibrated in his veins, locking his will, paralyzing his thoughts and his very ability to react. He was frozen, motionless like a statue.

Alaryon’s gaze shifted from simulated concern to obvious frustration. He frowned, his face suddenly hardening.

- "Adrien, speak to me, now!" he demanded, his voice becoming sharp as a razor.

No response. Adrien remained perfectly motionless, his gaze empty, unable even to turn his eyes toward Alaryon.

Alaryon’s patience snapped brutally. He stood up abruptly, knocking over the chair behind him.

- "I told you to answer!" he screamed before violently striking Adrien in the face.

The slap resonated sharply, throwing the boy’s head to the side. Adrien felt a lightning pain cross his cheek, his mind plunging into total confusion. He didn’t understand. Why was Alaryon, who had always shown himself to be warm, reacting this way? What had he done wrong? Why wasn’t his body obeying him anymore?

Two massive dragons rushed into the tent, brutally grabbing Adrien by the arms. They dragged him out of the tent, almost dragging his inert body through the camp to an isolated cell, far from the other structures. Inside, a dark leather chair sat in the center, robust straps hanging from its sides.

Adrien was thrown mercilessly onto the seat. His arms and legs were immediately tied, then his head immobilized by a thick strap around his forehead. He felt his heart beating frantically, terror slowly infiltrating each of his fibers.

A few minutes later, Alaryon entered the cell with a calm step, icily determined. He observed Adrien with obvious contempt.

- "You really thought you could play with me for long, little one? I’m tired of this ridiculous game. You’re going to reveal everything, whether you want to or not."

Adrien opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Confusion and fear still paralyzed his thoughts.

Alaryon gestured toward the entrance. A dragon slowly entered the cell, dressed in a long purple tunic richly embroidered. He was thinner and more slender than the other dragons, his sharp gaze shining with cold intelligence.

- "This is Erazem," Alaryon said, pointing to the dragon in purple. "A very special and respected member among us. A specialist in mental powers. He’s going to probe your mind, Adrien, and extract everything we want to know from it."

Alaryon smiled coldly before continuing:

- "Of course, this process is not without risk. You could end up a vegetable. But at this point, that’s really the least of my concerns."

Adrien felt panic explode within him as Erazem approached slowly, a dark and disturbing gleam in his eyes. Pure and visceral terror invaded every part of his body, as the dragon’s shadow slowly extended over him.

The dragon extended his clawed hand toward Adrien, the long, curved claws shining with an icy threat. The two fingers penetrated deeply into Adrien’s eye sockets with brutal precision. The resulting gurgling was atrocious, like the wet and nauseating burst of an overripe peach under pressure. The warm, viscous liquid flowed down his cheeks, mixing with his shrill screams, saturated with indescribable suffering.

A lightning pain exploded in his skull, traversing every nerve, every muscle, every fiber of his being. The burning was so intense, so overwhelming that it erased all coherent thought, all other sensation. All he felt now was pure and infinite agony.