Chapter 11 Coercion
I sat next to Shakari and the twins among first-year students from all legions in the Emberkeep atrium for our coercion-blocking class.
The space smelled faintly of damp stone and old parchment, the air cool enough to raise goosebumps along my arms. Shadows from the high glass ceiling bled across the floor, shifting with every flicker of candlelight.
Professor Chen stepped into the center as if she owned it. Mid-forties, sharp-boned, her dark brown hair scraped into a severe knot, her robes elegant and white as bone. She didn’t just speak, her presence pressed into the space, quieting the room before a word left her mouth.
“Coercion blocking,” she said, her voice low and precise, “is not optional. Not for Emberkeep. Not for Dragontail. Not for anyone who wishes to keep their mind intact.”
Her gaze swept the class like a scalpel.
“Especially not Dragontail when you go far beyond the Veil. There are strong wildweavers with mind-bending abilities.” She tapped her temple, a faint shimmer of shadow curling from her fingertips.
“You may not be able to block all mind-bending all the time but perhaps long enough to be rescued.”
A shiver rippled through the rows of benches, the unease spreading as the lesson pressed on.
“And unfortunately, there may be mind-benders you will never be able to block because their magic is simply too strong,” Chen continued.
“But here, I will teach you how to build and strengthen that wall and how to try.” She paused.
“Can someone give me examples of the types of mind-bending you could block?”
“Getting the truth out of you,” a male voice called from the back.
“Making you imagine things,” a female voice added from the front row.
“Good. Give me another example.”
“Making you do something against your will,” Rowan responded from the seat in front of me.
“That takes a hell of a mind-bender but yes,” Chen said. “Another, more common and more dangerous one.”
“Coercing you into not saying something,” another voice offered from the crowd.
“That’s a good one and one many mind-bender master.” Chen's voice held a note of excitement. “In fact, it’s the most commonly used technique within the Emberkeep Guard to control confidential information.”
“Why would anyone willingly let themselves be coerced into not saying something?” Tran asked, mockery thick in his tone from the seat beside me.
“Well, it’s the law,” Chen answered, sounding almost bored.
“For confidential information, you must willingly accept the coercion or face greater consequences.” Her voice sharpened.
“I am not teaching you to build mental walls to resist Emberkeep Guards. I am teaching you this so wildweavers cannot enter your mind, so that if you are in the wrong place at the wrong time on this island, you have a chance.”
She let that settle. “Whether you like it or not, this island is not crime-free. And your minds, as members of a legion, are worth protecting. What you know is worth protecting from others.”
The topic made my chest tighten. It was too heavy to digest, especially after I had trained extensively with my tutors on building mental walls.
Professor Chen continued addressing Tran and later explained later how to build mental walls, but my focus had already slipped.
I tried to listen—truly. But my thoughts kept drifting to last night in the library.
Shakari leaned in. "What’s with you? You’ve stared through the wall for five minutes."
"I couldn’t find anything on my family," I whispered.
"And... I also saw Lorik Draventh last night."
Her eyes narrowed as she murmured: "Again?"
"He was reading Ashes of the Sun, Tears of the Moon..." I leaned closer, but she cut me off.
"Moonveils like him won’t read classics, Thea. He wasn’t there to read. This is the second time. Don’t be alone in the library! Lorik Draventh isn’t there for books," she chastised.
“It’s not like he can kill me.”
"There are worse things than dying," Shakari snapped. The words echoed Lorik’s. "Stay away from him."
She was right. My fixation on Lorik Draventh risked pulling me into darkness. I had to stop looking for him, trying to untangle his motives, stop imagining our paths crossing again.
But before I could answer Shakari, a voice cracked through the air like a whip.
Professor Chen’s golden eyes locked onto mine. “Since you’ve been paying such great attention,” she said, each word as sharp as glass, “come to the front. Now.”
I slowly stood, my heart pounding and my stomach knotted with self-conscious dread. My legs felt stiff as I walked out onto the open floor, the light now harsher under my feet, and the weight of everyone’s gaze pressed on me.
“You’ve practiced before?” Chen asked.
“With my tutors,” I responded firmly.
Her mouth tilted, but not quite into a smile. "Let’s see what The Glass Castle tutors have taught you. I want to understand the level of your preparation."
She closed the distance until all I could see were her bright eyes.
“Coercion blocking is intentional,” she said. “You do not wish for walls. You build them. You strengthen them. And you keep them standing.”
Her voice dropped lower, each word landing like a hammer. “Draw the magic from your body, feel it in your veins, your bones. Shape it. Force it into a barrier around your mind. Imagine the walls rising, brick by brick, until nothing can breach them.”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
Her hand lifted, shadow rippling from her fingertips. “Your heirloom,” she said.
I hesitated, fingers brushing the relic at my wrist. The heirloom was warm against my warm ivory skin. My shield against the unknown magic here.
Reluctantly, I unclasped it and placed it in her waiting palm. She tucked it away without ceremony.
“Now,” Chen said softly. “Let’s see how well you’ve learned.”
The room fell utterly still as everyone waited for what came next.
I reached inward, to the place where my magic lived as my tutors had taught me.
Those bright, spinning sun wheels deep in my core pulsed.
I drew from them, steady and deliberate; warmth rose through my chest and throat until it thrummed behind my eyes.
I built the solid and unyielding walls as she’d described.
Professor Chen extended her will. It brushed against me like a cool wind, but then nothing. No pain. No pressure. No intrusion.
For a moment, I wondered if she hadn’t begun. Then her brow furrowed slightly, and the shadows around her hands deepened. The air thickened. Students leaned forward. I waited for the attack that never came.
Her magic touched the edges of my mind again, probing, searching and met only silence.
I braced instinctively, imagining the golden ramparts sealing tighter. Still nothing.
Professor Chen’s eyes flickered, the faintest crease forming between her brows. The gold in her eyes flared brighter, as if she were forcing her way through some invisible barrier.
My pulse hammered, but still I felt no invasion, no breach, only a faint hum, like distant static.
This couldn’t be it. I had built a myriad of mental shields before, but this felt almost effortless.
After a long moment, she exhaled and stepped back.
“Well done,” she said, voice unreadable.
The benches erupted in whispers.
Chen’s gaze lingered on me for a heartbeat too long before she looked away. “Remarkable! Take note. This is what you aim for. Control. Stillness. An unbreakable mind.”
Applause rippled through the benches. Shakari shot me a stunned look, half pride, half disbelief.
I couldn’t stop smiling, relief and elation flooding my chest as the tension finally broke. Against all my fears and doubts, I had finally done it. I’d held my ground in something in this academy, pride burning through lingering apprehension.
But across the room, Professor Chen’s expression never softened. She studied me the way one might study a dangerous relic, beautiful, but unpredictable. When the class finally ended, Professor Chen returned my pendant with deliberate care.
Her tone faltered for the first time. “Your… walls are unusual.”
“What do you mean?” I asked in confusion.
“They feel sturdy, innate. Very interesting,” she said quietly.
As I turned to leave, her voice followed me, measured, and uneasy, revealing more than just professional concern. She seemed determined to ensure I wouldn’t grow overconfident or let my abilities become a risk.
“Keep practicing. One success is not safety, and comfort is how minds are broken. Your twenty-first birthday is approaching. After that, your protection heirloom will fail. From then on, your mind must stand on its own. You are the heir to the throne.”