A thin wet rasp responded. It managed one word.
"...No."
"No?" Quinlan raised an eyebrow from his throne of braided vine, Nyxara still warm against his chest.
After dealing with Chizuru's nonsense longer than he should have, Quinlan tried the obvious next.
"[Subjugation]." The spell left him clean, aimed at the consciousness inside the blade, and caught nothing.
Like closing a fist around smoke. Not enough of an entity left to bind.
'...Great.'
His eyes found Nyxara's, and the nod he gave her was small. The leash tightened through the bond. The blade screamed, thin and pitiful, and when she eased off the wretched thing cringed so hard it nearly came apart. "I wasn't asking. Speak the truth, only the truth, or you'll forever regret opposing me."
Three heartbeats of silence. Then the rasp returned. "...What do you want to know?"
"What exactly are you?" Quinlan asked.
