Chapter 4: Under the Gaze of the Church
The interrogation room was designed to make people uncomfortable.
It wasn't small, nor was it dark. In fact, it was brightly lit—too bright. Pale white crystals embedded in the ceiling cast a steady glow that erased shadows and left nowhere for the eyes to rest. The walls were smooth stone, unmarked and undecorated, absorbing sound in a way that made every movement feel intrusive.
Lucien Arkwright sat alone at the center of the room.
His hands rested calmly on the table, fingers loosely interlaced. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as if he were waiting for a late colleague rather than members of the Royal Church's Inspection Division.
Inside, he was counting his breaths.
The whisper within him was silent now, watching him.
The door opened.
Three inspectors entered, their gray robes whispering softly against the floor. The one in front was the same man from the lecture hall—Inspector Halbrecht, if Lucien's borrowed memories were correct. Middle-aged, sharp-eyed, and permanently pleasant in the way of someone who enjoyed authority.
They took their seats without invitation.
"Professor Arkwright," Halbrecht said warmly, folding his hands. "Thank you for your cooperation."
Lucien inclined his head. "Of course."
A thin sheet of parchment was placed on the table.
Halbrecht tapped it lightly. "Anomaly reports. Magical fluctuations. Linguistic resonance exceeding acceptable thresholds."
Lucien glanced at the parchment, then looked back up. "During a lecture on sealed knowledge?"
"Yes," Halbrecht said smoothly. "That is precisely our concern."
The two inspectors beside him remained silent, their gazes fixed on Lucien like weights.
Lucien smiled faintly. "History can be… unsettling."
Halbrecht chuckled. "A common defense."
Lucien did not reply.
Silence stretched.
Halbrecht leaned back slightly. "You are aware, Professor, that certain topics are considered restricted under Church doctrine."
"I am," Lucien said. "I am also aware that I did not violate any listed prohibitions."
Halbrecht's smile thinned by a fraction. "You spoke of anchors."
Lucien met his gaze evenly. "A well-documented historical concept."
"You implied living ones."
Lucien paused, just long enough to seem thoughtful.
"I implied," he said carefully, "that civilizations once believed such things possible."
The inspector's eyes sharpened.
"Belief has power," Halbrecht said quietly.
"So does ignorance," Lucien replied.
The temperature in the room dipped subtly.
One of the silent inspectors shifted.
Halbrecht watched Lucien for a long moment, then nodded. "You're well-spoken. It's easy to see why the academy tolerates you."
Lucien did not rise to the bait.
Halbrecht slid another parchment forward. "Tell me, Professor—did you perform any rituals last night?"
Lucien felt the whisper stir.
He kept his expression neutral. "I did not."
A lie.
But not an obvious one.
The inspector's gaze lingered on Lucien's wound.
"The wound," Halbrecht said lightly. "Care to explain it?"
Lucien lifted a hand and touched the scar. "An accident. Books can be dangerous."
Halbrecht smiled. "Indeed they can."
The silence returned, heavier now.
Lucien sensed it then—not from the inspectors, but from the room itself. A subtle pressure, like a held breath. The crystals in the ceiling flickered faintly.
*They're testing me,* he realized.
He steadied his thoughts.
Halbrecht stood. "One final matter."
He turned slightly toward the wall.
"Her Highness has taken a personal interest in your lectures."
Lucien remained still.
"That interest," Halbrecht continued, "creates complications."
"I teach whoever is enrolled," Lucien said calmly.
"Be careful," Halbrecht warned. "Royal curiosity has ended careers. And lives." He said with a cold tone.
Lucien rose as well.
"I will keep that in mind."
Halbrecht studied him, then nodded. "You are dismissed."
The door opened behind Lucien.
As he stepped out, the whisper brushed his thoughts.
*They did not see the truth.*
---
The corridor outside felt darker by comparison, though Lucien knew it was only his senses recalibrating. He walked slowly, unhurried, past arched windows and carved stone pillars etched with wards meant to deter exactly the kind of knowledge he carried.
A familiar presence waited near the stairwell.
Princess Elowen stood alone, hands folded behind her back, gazing out a window overlooking the inner courtyard.
"You survived," she said without turning.
"yes," Lucien replied.
She faced him. "They questioned you."
"Yes."
Her eyes searched his face. "Did they believe you?"
Lucien considered the question. "They believe what keeps them comfortable."
She nodded once. "Then they are dangerous."
Lucien almost smiled.
They walked in silence for a moment.
"The seal beneath the academy," Elowen said suddenly. "It responds to you."
Lucien stopped.
"That is not possible," he said.
"It is," she replied. "When you spoke today, the dreams changed."
Lucien met her gaze. "How?"
"There was a door," she said quietly. "And it opened."
The whisper stirred again.
Lucien felt a chill settle into his bones.
"Your Highness," he said carefully, "from this point forward, you must tell me everything you dream."
Elowen studied him. "And you?"
"I will tell you," he said, "what the history books do not."
She nodded.
Somewhere deep beneath the academy, ancient stone shifted.
And something that had slept for centuries listened.