The Inquisitor’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
Kaelen opened his mouth to speak, the words of honeyed manipulation already forming on his tongue. But in that instant, a memory surfaced—not his own, but the Bangle’s. A previous wearer. A man named Arcturus, who had worn the Bangle for thirty years before it had discarded his hollowed-out body on a beach. In the memory, Kaelen saw Arcturus standing before his own daughter, tears streaming down his face as the Bangle forced him to recite a list of every reason he’d ever resented her.
The descent was rapid after that. He became a tyrant in a week. He used the Bangle to enthrall a crew of Deepwoken, turning their free will into a chorus of obedient drones. They sailed the Sea of Teeth, and wherever Kaelen went, smiles were painted on faces that had forgotten how to form them. He made a duke strangle his own court jester for a poorly timed joke. He made a mother sell her child for a shiny pebble. Each command felt like a splinter driving deeper into his soul.