Erazem plunged deeper into Adrien's mind, his claws still deeply anchored in the boy's bloody sockets. His spirit insinuated itself into the fractured consciousness of the young slave, exploring each memory, each fragment of thought with icy greed. Adrien, now blind, screamed without interruption, his hoarse and desperate cry echoing in the cramped cell.

At first, everything was confused, a chaotic maelstrom of sensations, sounds and scattered images. Then, gradually, everything became clearer. The dragon navigated through Adrien's memory as if he were advancing on the sharp edge of a razor. Each step in this vulnerable mind sent indescribable pain vibrating through the boy's consciousness, intensifying his cries of suffering.

Erazem saw fragments of Adrien's life pass before him: childhood broken by captivity, daily harassment, fleeting moments of friendship and solidarity among the other slaves. Deeper, he discovered buried layers of fear, hope and darkness, but still no clear answer to the question that obsessed him.

Finally, a flickering light caught his attention, something intriguing, almost tangible. The dragon's heart began to beat faster, animated by growing excitement. He sensed that he was very close to discovering the secret he sought, this mysterious presence that protected Adrien and gave him the strength to resist.

As he prepared to grasp this promising glimmer, everything suddenly shifted brutally.

The mental landscape around him suddenly collapsed into an abyss of total darkness. He was plunged into an oppressive, infinite darkness, without any reference point. Erazem immediately felt a deep unease invade him, an unpleasant feeling of no longer being in control, but rather of being observed, even hunted.

Intrigued but not yet alarmed, he calmly tried to withdraw from Adrien's mind to regain his bearings and retry the extraction of the secret. But when he tried to disengage, something unexpected happened: he could neither move mentally nor physically. His mind remained stubbornly anchored in this black void, impenetrable and distressing.

- "What is this..." he muttered mentally, his panicked thoughts intensifying despite himself.

He tried to detach himself a second time, to retreat, to flee this oppressive mental space, but nothing happened. His powers, always so reliable, no longer responded to him. His own body now seemed prisoner of Adrien's mind.

A frozen shiver of apprehension slowly crossed Erazem's consciousness. Then, slowly, emerging from the total darkness, two enormous orange pupils appeared, staring intently at the mentalist dragon with burning and devastating anger.

Terror rose in Erazem as a deep, powerful voice rumbled around him, resonating in the very depths of his being.

- "You dare to defile the mind of those who follow me," whispered the voice, grave and charged with crushing authority. "Your greed will be your punishment."

Erazem mentally opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The voice, immense and devastating, infiltrated him, dislocating his will and his power as if they were nothing more than paper burned by a vivid flame.

Outside, Alaryon observed attentively, his gaze passing from the dragon's initial expression of excitement to Erazem's sudden strange immobility. A palpable unease seized him as the mentalist dragon suddenly trembled, his body shaken by uncontrollable spasms.

- "Erazem? What's happening?" questioned Alaryon, his voice now tinged with real concern.

But Erazem did not respond. Instead, a cry of inhuman violence suddenly burst from the mentalist dragon's throat. A scream saturated with pure pain, indescribable terror. Alaryon stepped back, horrified, as the dragon dressed in purple collapsed brutally to the ground, unconscious and still trembling slightly.

The cell then plunged back into a sinister and oppressive silence, only interrupted by Adrien's weak and broken moans, still tied to the chair, his face devastated, his eyes reduced to bloody and empty sockets.

Alaryon observed Erazem, stunned, the dragon lying on the ground, his body seized with residual convulsions, his eyes rolled back. Slowly, the mental specialist stopped trembling, his body finally relaxed, but his eyes remained fixed, emptied of any spark of intelligent life. Alaryon cautiously knelt beside him, snapping his fingers in front of his frozen face.

- "Erazem? Answer me, now!" demanded Alaryon with a hint of anguish.

But the dragon dressed in purple remained silent, motionless, incapable of the slightest conscious gesture. Alaryon clenched his fists in frustration. He had lost a precious element, reduced to a vegetative state, forever useless.

He rose abruptly, his face hard, agitated by a barely contained anger. He signaled to the massive dragons at the door.

- "Take him away," he ordered coldly. "He'll be of no use to us anymore."

The guards gently seized Erazem's inert body and evacuated him from the cell, leaving behind an atmosphere heavy with tension and uncertainty. Alaryon remained motionless for a moment, his dark gaze fixed on Adrien, who was barely breathing, moaning weakly in his seat.

"I'll have to speak to my superiors about this," he murmured with concern, now aware that an unknown and powerful threat weighed on them all.

He turned on his heels, leaving the cell with a determined step, heavily closing the door behind him.

In the cold and silent darkness of the depths of the underground prison, Mordred slowly reopened his eyes, his orange pupils glowing faintly in the gloom. A slight and satisfied smile stretched his thin lips as he savored the mental victory he had just won.

But behind this satisfaction, a subtle point of sadness came to slightly weigh down his heart. Adrien's face, innocent, ravaged by the brutality of his defense, haunted his thoughts. He had never wished such a fate on the child. He had only wanted to protect him, preserve his secrets... But the price had been high, far too high.

Mordred sighed softly, a barely perceptible breath that resonated like a sad whisper in the void of the gallery. He would have to live with this guilt, this silent burden that now accompanied each of his choices.

Yet, despite this remorse, he knew he had acted as he should. The protection of the group, the safety of all those who counted on him came before everything. He slowly raised his head, his eyes shining with new determination.

He was ready to go even further if necessary, whatever the cost.

Alaryon quickly crossed the slave camp, his mind charged with muted anger and growing concern. The loss of Erazem, precious specialist of their unit, represented a hard blow. But even more worrying was this mysterious threat capable of reducing the powerful mind of the mentalist dragon to nothing.

The center of Paris, heart of draconic control over the region, was several hours of flight away, but Alaryon decided it was imperative to make his report immediately. He deployed his large dark wings with determination, rising rapidly into the air under the suspicious gazes of his subordinates. The devastated landscape raced beneath him at full speed, vestige of a broken humanity, now subject to the merciless laws of draconic rule.

He finally arrived at the heart of the devastated capital, where the imposing towers of stone and metal, now rebuilt in the image of dragons, dominated the horizon. Alaryon landed heavily in front of a large building with austere facades, guarded by dragons in thick armor with sharp gazes.

- "I must speak immediately to the commanders," he declared curtly to the guards, his tone leaving little room for contestation.

The guards let him pass without a word, immediately recognizing his authority and the gravity of the situation in his voice and gaze. He entered a large room with walls covered in maps, plans and blinking screens. Several dragons, dressed in impeccable uniforms, watched him approach with cold curiosity.

- "Alaryon," said one of the commanders in a powerful and slightly intrigued voice, "you seem particularly preoccupied. What urgent report do you bring today?"

Alaryon breathed deeply before responding clearly, his voice resonating with controlled but palpable tension.

- "We have lost Erazem. He is in a state of brain death following an attempted mental penetration on a young slave. Something... or someone intervened in this slave's mind. It was an unknown force, powerful and dangerous. It completely neutralized Erazem."

A concerned murmur ran through the room. The commanders quickly exchanged glances, the gravity of the news clearly settling on their faces.

- "What kind of power could have done this?" asked another commander, visibly troubled. "Erazem was among the best in his field."

- "I don't know precisely," replied Alaryon with a worried frown. "But it's clear that this is not human. Or at least not entirely. Someone or something extremely dangerous is protecting the secrets of this slave camp, and we'll have to take a very close interest in it."

The first commander slowly nodded, thoughtful.

- "You did well to come directly here. We'll have to reinforce security and investigate thoroughly. Return to the camp immediately and make sure nothing else happens before our arrival."

Alaryon acquiesced with a sharp movement, aware of the urgency of the situation and the potential danger they now faced. He left the room, his heart weighed down by a deep concern he had never felt before. The threat that hung over them was still vague, but it was becoming more real and terrifying with each passing moment.