Don't Try to Manipulate a Manipulator
Shain entered his rooms at the Azalstin estate. As soon as he crossed the outer threshold, the walls, doors, and windows lit up with light-blue imprisonment magic—a potent fusion of lightning, soul, and mental energies, difficult to breach. He walked to his inner sanctum, the light dimming and fading completely behind him.
His sanctuary was a black, cold room lit by points of blue and silver starlight embedded in the ceiling and walls. This was his room of tranquility, solitude, and meticulous planning. He sat on the floor, his stern expression melting into a sly smile. He had promised himself he would not dwell on any part of the completed plan. It was too easy to be caught; he had siblings who were powerful telepaths and diviners. A single stray thought could jeopardize the mission.
He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the ceiling, allowing the room's power to wash over him. The stone was imbued with fate magic, a material formed during ancient celestial phenomena. As the magic rolled over him, faint lines of fate stretched outward, materializing through his inner vision. This was not fate magic; it was a warm-up, a stretching of his awareness, preparing to check the trajectory of his elaborate, months-long preparations.
He used fate drastically differently than his sisters, looking as deeply as needed, willing to skew his own fate lines if necessary. He molded and tied fate to his needs. The lines stretched and shrank before him, and his smile widened.
A throat cleared. Shain sat up straight, all magical flow stopping instantly. He scanned the room.
There was a smile in her voice when Rachel spoke. "Hello, brother. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Can we talk?"
Alarm bells screamed within Shain. How did she breach the prison magic? Stop! Don't think about her. Subdue the mind. He stilled his thoughts, refusing to speak.
"That's fine, I'll talk, you can listen," Rachel continued. "I find your calm demeanor confusing. Why aren't you shouting to anyone who will listen that you're innocent? You are a manipulator by trade."
Shain remained silent. His sister was the Milana, a being of unfathomable power. He was certain she would know everything if he spoke one word or let his mental guard down.
Rachel stepped out from a shadowy corner, and only then did he perceive her. He steadied his breath as she walked to his side, sitting down next to him, their knees touching.
She was silent for so long that Shain slowly turned his head to look at her. Her face was shrouded in a swirling mist of rainbow light, and her body was shimmering stardust. He stared, mouth agape, his heart swelling with pride. This wasn't just a powerful being; this was his sister, the Milana aligned with the realm. The perfect alignment was breathtaking: a shimmering cosmos, with distant planetary bodies and the subtle motion of creation and dissolution visible within the starry mist of her form.
She is more powerful than I ever imagined. More important, he thought, allowing the pride to swell.
Her rainbow-shrouded face turned to him. "I don't understand the specifics, Shain, but I know something is up with all of this. I can tell you don't want to say anything, so I will leave it."
She stood. Her form swirled, expanded, then resumed its humanoid shape.
"I will trust you, brother, and not interfere." Her eyes settled on him, firm and knowing. "Don't do anything dangerous, and if you need help, ask."
A small, intricate circular rainbow, no larger than the tip of a pin, moved from her and entered Shain's body. She was gone before the next breath.
Shain felt the rainbow stretch and connect him telepathically to Rachel. I guess you can't manipulate a true manipulator, he thought, shrugging off the observation. He needed to be prepared.
The fate lines again stretched and contracted as he focused. His fingers twirled in the air, sharpening the lines he had been actively manipulating for months, showing scenes he had already studied. He would be ready for the verdict.
The next day, in the senate building, Main Justice Angelica sat sternly, ready to announce the sentence. Everyone listened in tense fascination.
"We, the Azmin tribunal, have found Azalstin Shain guilty of treachery against the Azmin people and the core realm Trannisa. Because he is an Azalstin, he will be confined, indefinitely, to the penal continent of Small Color."
The announcement was met with complete silence. The shock was palpable, seizing everyone except Rachel, Shain, and Main Justice Angelica, who appeared relaxed and satisfied.
"Out of respect for all Azalstin, Azalstin Shain will be given ten days to prepare for his incarceration. During this time, a guard chosen by this tribunal will ensure that he does not try to flee or use his powers in any way. Once he enters Small Color's facilities, we will ask the Milana to cut Azalstin Shain from the realm's soul well and place his abilities into dormancy." She looked directly to Rachel, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod of agreement.
A torrent of whispers erupted. Rachel sat quietly as her family discussed the verdict. Her eyes scanned the tribunal members, settling on Main Justice Angelica.
Rachel allowed her attention to focus on the Justice. This was a very interesting woman. To assume Rachel would cut her brother off from the origin well of Trannisa, and for her to even know of such an option—Rachel was curious. She sensed something familiar and yet subtly wrong about Angelica.
Was she a part of this? As the thought formed, something clicked within Rachel. She sensed a deep connection between the Justice and a part of the conspiracy.
"Uncle Tomas," Rachel asked calmly. "Who is the tribunal president?"
The family stopped talking instantly, turning to look at Angelica.
"That is Angelica," Uncle Tomas replied. "She is the daughter of Chief Marcos."
"The one married to the previous White?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, exactly," her uncle confirmed. "It is only because of her husband that we understand the extent of the corruption in our realm's government."
Aunt Claris added, "When the previous White died, hope died with him."
Rachel looked to Uncle Tomas. "Did this Angelica remarry?"
He shook his head. "She never did."
Aunt Claris shrugged. "She was married off young, then widowed young. It is hard to move forward when things have been so difficult. Besides, it is said she is still watched."
"Hmph! Ashan continually avoids us as if he no longer respects the Azmin," Uncle Chase grumbled. "But he still has time to spy."
Rachel shook her head. "The current Black and White no longer recognize the Azalstin, Uncle Chase. But they understand the Azmin are still needed and integral to the functioning of the realm. They can avoid and spy all they like. They know that nothing can be done without us."
Aunt Claris, the current Azalstin chief, nodded. "This is true. They understand the need for the Azmin, but they dislike our clan system. They want to have a say in Azmin politics because they want some control over us."
The family instantly began speaking about corruption in the realm, their voices loud and frustrated. Rachel remained quiet, the pieces of the Lanstra operation, Angelica's role, and Shain's fate assignment falling into place.