As soon as it gained sentience, Bianor's shadow instinctively attempted to escape the looming danger.
Unfortunately for it, a much stronger bundle of shades dragged it back before it could flee. Strands of dark webbing spread against its surface, gluing it to a pillar right next to its crucified owner.
"Shadow," Nysa spoke in Olden Sethiae, the ancient occult language of the Sethian Empire, "Submit to me, and I shall grant you the pleasure of a fleeting existence."
The shadow squirmed under the young woman's hold, feeling a strange compulsion to listen to her words. That was a particularity of Nysa's brand of magecraft. Or, more precisely, the natural ability of a 9th-class practitioner of the Night Sorceries—a Shadowbinder.
At twelve years old, she had already undergone the Insight Ritual for her Sorceries, gaining the mystical aptitudes of a 10th-class Nightkin. Aside from elemental mysticism such as enhancement, perception, and hypnosis magecraft, she had acquired the ability to command her shadow, share its senses, and even communicate with other shadows.
Communicate was a keyword in this case. In occultism, a shadow was a corrupted figment of its owner's memories and persona, refracted akin to a mirror into the Realm of Shades, which was located deep inside the Reverse Boundary of the World. In short, it was a bundle of shapeless, chaotic thoughts, spilling continuously from a human's mind wherever there was a lack of light.
The Night Sorceries' Insight Ritual linked its magi directly to the Realm of Shades, granting them the ability to temporarily awaken a shadow's stifled sentience. It possessed unfiltered access to its owner's memories as well as an observer's objective point of view, making it the perfect tool for intelligence gathering.
However, as all lifeforms born in the Reverse Boundary of the World, awakened shadows were inherently malicious. They were fickle by nature and hardly spilled their owner's secrets without an adequate amount of falsehoods mixed in. Therefore, communicating with them implied more forceful coercion and careful wording.
Thankfully, Nysa resolved this particular problem when she reached a higher maturation stage in her occult aptitudes two years later.
At only fourteen years old, she broke through the shackles of a 10th-class Nightkin and ascended into a 9th-class Shadowbinder. Not only did she gain a plethora of shadow-related abilities, but the very Mana she effused became a powerful, compelling force to sentient shadows.
The thought of one's own shadow getting interrogated was naturally far-fetched, even for veteran magi unfamiliar with the Night Sorceries. Most kept their aptitudes secret from practitioners of other brands of magecraft, hence the efficiency of this method. It was highly probable that the Mekkubal Order didn't take measures against this kind of probing.
Whether they were dabbling Occultists (10th to 8th-class magi), experienced Thaumaturges (7th to 5th-class magi), or Divine Apostles (4th to 2nd-class magi), information remained key no matter one's type of Sorceries, intelligence, or fighting capabilities.
"Now, speak," she uttered in a commanding tone. "Were there any lies in what Bianor of Cebrene just revealed to me?"
Bianor's struggling shadow made a high-pitched noise, shrill enough to shake the temple's pillars. A regular human would have had his eardrums burst, and his bones crumble, but it was barely an inconvenience for a magus like Nysa.
"A tenacious one," she said while slowly closing her hand into a fist. "Do you yearn this much for the stillness of your inexistence?"
The stripes of dark webs that imprisoned the shadow began to pressure its body, threatening to crush the flickering life it had just been given.
Like every other creature, Bianor's shadow instinctively sought life above all else, which was why it quickly relented when it understood the disparity in power. Its piercing shriek turned into a corrupted version of the old man's voice as if speaking through layers upon layers of thick fabric.
"Enough, enough! I shall answer truthfully," it said with a sigh, "I swear it on the name of the Thousand Shades and the glorious Lord they serve."
Nysa consciously ignored half of the sentence the shadow just spoke. When dealing with creatures from the Reverse Boundary of the World, it was best never to dwell on the entities they mentioned. Thoughts, especially those of magi, heavily affected the atmospheric flow of Mana, meaning that pondering on specific names or subjects too deeply would attract unwanted, and often dangerous, attention.
"Good enough," Nysa nodded. "I will repeat my question then. Were there any lies in what Bianor of Cebrene revealed to me?"
"There were no lies," the shadow's reply was short and succinct.
What? The answer gave Nysa the worst headache in a matter of seconds.
There's no way the Mekkubal Order knows about the Night Soceries' shadowbinding. Hypnotic cues cannot be transmitted to a shadow either, and since it gave its word, it's unlikely to be lying.
Was Iphiclus really insincere with me? I thought he instructed me to ignore Bianor's answers because he knew something I didn't.
Was it all just a ploy to make me dismiss his involvement in the Mekkubal Order's schemes?
No, wait, it doesn't make any sense. Iphiclus wouldn't have given me Bianor of Cebrene's name if he had something to hide. I must pry deeper.
Nysa shifted its gaze toward the now-silent shadow. As expected, while it swore it wouldn't lie, it wasn't going to freely share information it wasn't asked about either.
After carefully choosing her words, Nysa inquired again, "Did Bianor of Cebrene speak the full truth?"
"No." Once again, the answer was brief.
The shadow's terseness started to annoy Nysa. She stifled a sigh, hiding her exasperation. "Explain."
"Explain what?"
The black, shadowy threads tightened their grip on BIanor's shadow, promptly untying its tongue. "All right! All right! My owner fully believed what he was saying, meaning he spoke no lies. What he believed, however, wasn't the truth."
"How come? Was the Mekkubal Order manipulating him with false truths?"
"No. He wasn't under the Mekkubal Order's control."
Nysa frowned. "Under whose control was he then?"
"The Henosis Seekers."