Biondh stepped into the dimly lit interrogation room at the Juvenile Detention Academy. The air was heavy with tension. She locked eyes with the gang boss, his face a mask of stubborn defiance beneath the bruises. He wasn't smiling, and she knew he wouldn't. How could he? His crew had been slaughtered by me.
"Enough games," she said, her voice cold and cutting through the silence. "Tell me exactly what happened. If you're truthful, we might be able to alleviate your sentence. That is, if you want to."
He swallowed hard, sweat beading at his temple. "Look, it's not what it seems. There was a setup… things spiraled. This pretty-boy crazy guy put lips on our boss's woman. We just intended to teach him a lesson. Who knew he was that strong?"
Biondh's glare didn't waver. "I don't want excuses. Answer the question. Who is he?"
"I don't know, Maestress," he replied, his voice trembling. "I've never seen anything like it. No matter how much lead we put on him, it bounced off like he was wearing armor plate. He's not human. He can't die."
"I see. We're done here." Biondh turned to leave. "A vehicle will come soon. The police will handle you now. I've got what I needed."
She stepped out of the interrogation room, accompanied by Folly, who had been observing silently. They walked hurriedly down the hallway.
"Maestress," Folly began, her voice hesitant. "What that man said… it isn't true, right? Humans that firearms can't kill… that's only in action movies, right?"
"You ask too many questions, Folly. Your job is to observe. Do I need to send you back to your father?"
"No, ma'am," she answered softly.
Biondh stopped and turned towards her. "Listen to me, kid. This is your first week in the JDA. It will get worse than this. You will learn things here—enough to understand exactly why your father sent you. Now, come with me to the council meeting. You might start to grasp the concept."
They walked into a room.
The conference room was luxurious and modern, its walls lined with muted, elegant paneling that absorbed the low hum of conversation. A large, C-shaped table crafted from dark polished wood dominated the center. Ten important figures, each dressed in sharp suits, sat in high-backed chairs that followed the table's curve.
Behind them, a group of subordinates stood silently against the wall—quiet reminders of the hierarchy at play.
The doors opened. Maestress Biondh entered, poised and confident—the eleventh member, whose arrival shifted the room's energy. She moved gracefully to the open seat at the head of the table, completing the circle. She was accompanied by Folly, whose presence went largely unrecognized by the dignitaries. Eyes flickered toward the girl before a hush settled, signaling the beginning of a high-stakes discussion.
Among the people of high status present was Lot Freeman—Folly's father. A towering figure in the country, he was one of its most respected and powerful names. Rumored to have achieved everything life could offer, his presence commanded both awe and quiet fear.
The meeting began.
Maestress Biondh, seated firmly at the head of the table, addressed the group. She spoke of a boy enlisted nearly three months ago—a recruit showing unusual promise. But sadly, he left, and he had no intention of staying.
She detailed how their training program had begun integrating psyche education to help recruits control their abilities, stressing that uncontrolled—or "stray"—psyche caused severe havoc. She cited several tragic suicides from the past three months as grim examples.
After a pause, she continued. "The types of psyche we are now hunting are those that pose the greatest threat to stability—unstable and dangerous energies that infiltrate minds and communities alike." Her tone was urgent, grave.
Lot Freeman leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "What weapons or methods are we using to eliminate these entities? Are they effective against this 'stray psyche'?"
Ichiminoguese's gaze was unsettled as he fixed on Maestress Biondh. "And do we have anything strong enough to stop those that resist? We can't afford failures. These forces threaten everything." Ichiminoguese was a brilliant businessman and the richest in Faeth Haven City, his words carrying the weight of capital and influence.
Dexter Citadel, a religious man, nodded solemnly. His voice was calm but firm. "How do we balance combat with containment? Some of these souls might be saved rather than destroyed. What tools does the JDA recommend for that?"
Maestress Biondh offered a faint smile. "Excellent questions. We employ a combination of psych-augmented weaponry and containment fields developed specifically for these entities. Our recruits train extensively to master them." She paused. "Regarding salvation versus destruction… it's a difficult line. Our priority is protection, but we explore rehabilitation when possible."
A dignitary from the far end of the table, Minister Kalvek, leaned in. His voice was heavy with skepticism. "Rehabilitation? You mean to tell me that these creatures—these walking disasters—can be trusted to return to society? I say we end them before they end us."
Dexter Citadel raised a hand, his calm breaking slightly. "That thinking leads to slaughter, Kalvek. Every stray psyche was once a person. A soul worth saving. Do you want their blood on our hands if they could have been brought back?"
Ichiminoguese scoffed. "And if your mercy costs us lives? My industries can't function if whole districts fall into chaos. We need decisive measures, not charity."
Lot Freeman's voice cut through the rising tension. "Gentlemen. What we need is balance. If the weapons work, use them. If containment is possible, attempt it. But never hesitate when lives are at stake. I want assurance that the JDA can adapt faster than the threats."
Biondh inclined her head. "Adaptation is exactly why I brought Folly here. She has shown remarkable progress and promise in mastering psychic disciplines. She is the top student in her batch. With training, she may one day surpass even our seasoned operatives."
Folly shifted uncomfortably as every eye turned to her. Some looked impressed, others doubtful.
Kalvek muttered, "A child? This is what you bring us as hope?"
Biondh's eyes narrowed. "Don't underestimate her. Underestimating recruits has cost us lives before."
The room absorbed her words, the weight of responsibility heavy on every face.
The dignitaries exchanged thoughtful glances. Lot Freeman's eyes narrowed, impressed but cautious. Ichiminoguese's anxious tapping ceased, though his disturbed look deepened. Dexter Citadel folded his hands, whispering a prayer under his breath. Kalvek scowled but remained silent.
Lot Freeman finally broke the silence. "It's clear the stakes are high. We need to ensure our weapons and strategies evolve as fast as these threats do. The survival of Faeth Haven—and beyond—depends on it."
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