Remont invaded her inner palace.

To his surprise, he discovered the spell worked without difficulty. He considered Faux's resistance to his magic, and Lady Elin might shrug him off. The remnants of the previous geas placed upon Lady Elin created an accessible pathway. Like the following shadow, he slipped through her defenses.

Is it truly this easy?

He arrived before a hearth. Red coals, the size of his fist, glowed, and orange flames danced. Looking closely, Remont noticed the fire took her shape, and the fire-replica of Elin rubbed her body with her hands. A mere tease, since the image disappeared, as if sensing he stared.

Burning passion? Soon, that will be mine.

The house existed on her newly acquired property and projected into her mind as the source of a strong bond.

He turned, seeking a more immediate form of thought to leverage, and nearly tripped on a pair of broken merchant's scales. Unlike the other imagery in Elin's mind, a black glowing aura outlined this magical artifact, indicating its outside origin. Remont recognized them as the 'Scales of Love and Lust,' and theorized these remnants left her mind vulnerable.

Two figurines lay next to the broken scales, one depicted Lady Elin and the other Sir Walter. He collected both of them.

Ah, so he did use a geas on her, I should have guessed. With his numinous body, such a feat would be easy. But why is the abyssal color surrounding them? Is he also an agent of Ouroboros? I know he's not a member of the Cult of the Circle. Furthermore, if the curse is broken, why is she still compelled to obey him? Did he mentally break her?

Nausea washed over Remont when he stepped outside, vomit bubbled in his mouth. Remont himself could not drive a mind to such madness. Demons could not paint a scene so hellish.

An inch-deep deluge of blood swamped the ground. Bodies floated up from the congealed flood, like bubbles in a rotten stew, standing and attacking the lone paladin they surrounded, Elin. Yet, the abilities she screamed were not those expected of a Gaiatic paladin. Her antithetical sword, 'Vampiric Blade,' ripped the blood straight through the skin of her enemies and splattered it about her, completing and endless cycle of combat. Her armor, her skin, her hair, all dyed red by the destruction.

The only remaining non-crimson part of her body was the whites of her eyes, which turned and fixed on him. Remont's breath hitched, and he only stopped holding his breath when she looked away.

What incredible trauma. Delicious.

With one step, Remont crossed the threshold between her emotional center to the underlying flight-or-fight instincts. Someone, most likely Sir Walter himself, degraded her internal defenses, and her character laid bare.

The mindscape of Elin's mind darkened, as the moon eclipsed the burnt-orange sun. Besides the figurines, Remont found little he could manipulate, so he studied the phenomenon.

While his consciousness inhabited a magical construct, and he need not worry about injury, the terror almost forced him to wet his pants.

No moon eclipsed the sun, it was a giant's head. Though without eyes, Remont could feel it stared at him. Remont failed to notice it because he confused the crouching mass of its body with a nearby mountain. The man's, no, the creature's skin looked like a starless sky, a void one could plunge into. Endless abyssal black. If it assumed a woman's shape, then Remont would describe it as Ouroboros. Chains bound a leather-bound book to its back like a rucksack.

,,˙pǝʇᴉʌuᴉ ʇ,uǝɹǝʍ no⅄ ¿noʎ ǝɹɐ oɥM,,

Sir Walter left behind a trap. How he managed to do so, Remont couldn't imagine. No one but himself should see this interpretation of the 'Method of Loci,' and Sir Walter did not know the spell, in any case. When it spoke, Remont's mind struggled to comprehend. Mana infused its speech. His skull vibrated. The pain dragged a wince across his face. It hurt. Bad.

"I don't... understand..."

I was foolish to think I could pry Lady Elin out of Sir Walter's control.

,,˙ʇɔǝsuᴉ 'ʇno ʞɔnɟ ǝɥʇ ʇǝפ,,

Lord Remont collapsed onto the floor. He vomited. The last words he understood, a geas strong enough to compel reality and unwind weaker magics. If it used worse insults, Lord Remont realized he would be in a coma. A being using spells as a form of communication can not be contested.

"A dagger! Fetch me a dagger! Hurry!" Lord Remont hissed. He wobbled to Walter's side of the bed. "This man has to die! Now! For everyone's sake!"

"My lord, the lady stirs!"

Lord Remont cursed when he missed his chance. He snatched his maid by the upper arm and retreated.