The moment the door clicked shut behind Ylva and Jason, Thalion’s eyes shot open.

There was nothing peaceful in that gaze. No lingering exhaustion. No softness from sleep. His pale irises, usually dulled by centuries of suffering, now burned with something sharp. Something hungry. Something sinister. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

And it wasn’t Tauriel watching through him. This wasn’t the mark on his neck transmitting images to that sadistic elf. This was all Thalion.

Because at his core, the years of trauma, the years of torture had twisted something in his soul. He was no longer the same elf who had once walked into that palace with dreams of adventure. He was not a nice person. He was not pure. If anything, he was the opposite.

Thalion sat up slowly on the bed, his silver hair falling across his gaunt face. His hands—still trembling, still weak—clenched into fists. He stared at the empty space on the floor where Ylva had been lying. Where Jason had been lying beside her.

"They left," he whispered to himself, his voice hollow. "Together."

He pressed his palm against his chest, feeling the faint pulse of his own heart. So slow. So tired. But underneath that exhaustion, something else stirred.

It was just as Jason had suspected. Thalion had somehow infiltrated his mind. Linked with him. An attempt to become closer to the one he believed was his savior.

But it wasn’t worship. It wasn’t gratitude.

It was ownership.

Thalion swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. His body protested—muscles weak, bones aching—but he ignored it. He walked to the small window and looked out at the fading stars.

"Why didn’t it work?" he muttered, his breath fogging the glass. "Why wasn’t he influenced?"

He had the magic. The ability. A rare, forbidden spell that allowed him to temporarily take over someone’s body. It wasn’t possession—not exactly. More like a whisper in the mind. A gentle push. A suggestion so subtle the victim wouldn’t even notice until it was too late.

He had used it before. Back in the dungeon. Back when Tauriel’s guards would come to beat him for using magic without permission.

It worked on Haldir."

Thalion’s lips curled into a cold smile at the memory. Poor, stupid Haldir. His bunkmate. His friend. Or so Haldir had believed.

Whenever Thalion needed to use magic—to heal himself, to cast a scrying spell, to reach out to someone through their dreams—he would temporarily possess Haldir’s body. Just for a few moments. Just long enough to slip out of his cell, cast what he needed, and leave Haldir confused.

Haldir always took the blame. Always. That was why he was absent from his cell in that moment when Tauriel came looking. Thalion had made sure to take precaution. He had used Haldir as a shield, a scapegoat, a disposable tool.

And Haldir had been beaten. Whipped. Dragged away to who knows where.

Thalion had felt nothing.

"Why should I?" he whispered to his reflection in the window. "He was weak. They were all weak. I survived. That’s what matters."

But Jason was different. Jason had resisted.

Thalion had tried to link with him during the journey. He had tried to plant suggestions, to make Jason more agreeable, more trusting, more dependent on him.

But Jason was showing resistance.

His magic had slid off Jason like water off stone.

Thalion kissed his teeth in irritation, the sound sharp in the quiet room. His pale fingers pressed against the window frame, knuckles whitening.

"Why?" he growled. "How is he able to resist?"

He had felt it during the escape. When Jason touched the enchanted door, Thalion had sensed something—a barrier, a resistance, a strange hollow space inside the human where magic seemed to... dissolve. Not block. Not deflect. Dissolve.

Like the magic was being eaten.

Thalion’s eyes narrowed.

"You’re hiding something," he murmured, turning away from the window. "Something even you don’t fully understand."

He walked back to the bed and sat down heavily, his body already complaining. He was still weak. Still recovering. He couldn’t attempt another linking spell for days—maybe weeks. His mana reserves were dangerously low, and his body was held together by little more than spite and passive healing.

But he would try again.

He had to.

Because Jason was his savior. His key. His way out of this miserable existence. And Thalion had spent too many years in chains to let anyone—even a strange, magic-resistant outsider—slip through his fingers.

"I will make you mine," Thalion whispered, his voice soft but venomous. "One way or another."

He lay back on the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. His eyes still held that sinister glint, but gradually, exhaustion overtook him. His breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped.

But even as sleep claimed him, his lips moved one last time.

"You will be mine."

The only advantage Jason had here was that Thalion could only put suggestions but he had no idea how the person who was afflicted by it would perceive it.

Especially since this spell was a little different from the one he had used the first time.

That one, he wanted Jason to see an image but this time, it was a suggestion.

This meant that Jason’s mind would do whatever it took to convey this suggestion as best as it could but Thalion had no idea what it would show or do to push him.

Either way, it was clearly not working.

Thalion knew this body wasn’t strong enough, he couldn’t reach his true strength with it but if Jason was as close to an elf as he thought.

If he could show him visions, there was a high chance Jason had mana pathways strong enough for him to use his full powers without the drawback of a fragile body.

-

Outside, the first rays of dawn crept over the rooftops. Ylva and Jason were still walking back from the fountain, unaware of the monster they had helped escape.

A cyan screen soon appeared.

[Ding!]

[1020 minutes elapsed!]

[Adaptation to mana manipulation: 40%!]

"HUH?"