Chapter 18
“He will see you soon,” the High Sage’s secretary said before leaving Ehlian alone in Kaice's office.
Kaice had been appointed by Prince Klain a couple of years ago, replacing the High Sage previously chosen by his father. The feud between King Cair and his firstborn son was well-known. Their animosity rarely hit the headlines, but people speculated, reading into every telling move.
The king even tried to control who his son should marry. Prince Klain, the Golden Prince, wasn’t meant to wed a low-class heir from any small or impoverished country. Or so the king believed.
Royal affairs were messy and sickening. He ought to feel lucky, really, that he wasn’t part of their world.
“I apologise for keeping you waiting,” Kaice said as he stepped into his office.
Ehlian stood and instinctively took a step back. He knew Kaice was a High-Class telepath. His appointment had been frowned upon by some, but strangely, Ehlian didn’t feel the overwhelming presence of his power. It seemed Kaice kept it contained behind a very dense mental shield.
Instead, something very soft and subtle settled around Ehlian.
It was like he’d been dropped into a space where even his smallest concerns were met with quiet sympathy and understanding.
That, Ehlian realised, Kaice most likely couldn’t or didn’t want to control.
He was a Gifted. An Empath. A rarity on their planet.
Most telepaths were born with finely balanced cores, their abilities evenly distributed. But some, like Kaice, were born with imbalanced cores, where one ability—empathy, in this case—dominated.
All High Sages were Empaths, but earning the position was no simple feat.
While Ehlian didn’t know Prince Klain personally, he had always preferred the prince’s appointments and policies over his father’s. So maybe he should trust Kaice too.
Ehlian relaxed his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’m just…”
“That’s quite alright, Ehlian,” the alpha replied. “I get that reaction a lot. If you’re not comfortable with me treating you today, we can always reschedule the appointment.”
“No!” Ehlian blurted out, then cleared his throat. “No. I want to do it today.”
Kaice remained standing a few feet away. “In that case, what can I help you with?”
“I was locked in prison for nearly a year,” Ehlian admitted reluctantly, bracing for a judgmental look, but Kaice’s expression stayed calm and neutral.
“There was this alpha… I shared a cell with him. And now I have these symptoms, memories of him, of us, that I can’t control.
He had full access to his power and I think he tampered with my mind. ”
“Let’s see,” Kaice said, stepping closer and raising his hand. “May I?”
Ehlian nodded and lowered his mental shield, though it made him feel a bit nervous. Rarely did anyone allow others to access their minds willingly, but if he didn’t, he’d never get rid of Hayce’s hold on him.
Kaice’s touch was gentle on his temple and soon a cautious, careful energy flowed into Ehlian’s mind.
It wasn’t invasive. It felt soothing, far nicer than he had expected.
As the last traces of worry bled out of him, he sensed Kaice’s careful presence circling his core, examining for any mental scars or malicious seals.
Slowly, Kaice withdrew, severing the connection completely.
“So?” Ehlian asked eagerly. “Did you find anything?”
Kaice’s response was firm. “Your mind is yours, Ehlian. No one has tampered with it.”
Ehlian frowned. “That’s not possible. There has to be something.”
“There’s a faint scar of a severed pack bond,” Kaice admitted, making it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. “The sudden cast out from a pack can make you feel unsafe and seeking constant protection, but as I said, it’s nearly completely healed, so the symptoms should be very mild by now.”
“I’m handling that a bit better now,” Ehlian admitted. “Are you sure there’s no seal? Those memories… I can barely control them.”
“Memory resurgence is rare, but it can happen after a traumatic event or a painful breakup. Has anything like this happened to you before?”
“No,” Ehlian said, shaking his head. Not even after his parents’ deaths in an awful airship crash. Back then, it had been him trying to dig up happy memories to relive them. It wasn’t forced like this. “There has to be a seal or something he put in.”
“Some alphas and omegas are naturally more attuned to each other’s power. You probably felt a strong connection with him from the start. It’s normal,” Kaice reassured him. “Like all memories, these will fade with time.”
“Can’t you do something about it? Stop it from happening?” A faint blush crept up his cheeks. “The memories can be quite… distracting.”
“I could, but I won’t,” Kaice said firmly. “That would mean tampering with your mind. I only intervene if there’s a risk of permanent damage to your core. That’s not the case here. Think of it as part of the grieving process. Let the memories run their course, and eventually they will fade.”
“I’m not grieving him,” Ehlian said vehemently, then let out a sigh. Gods, he was so tired of this shit. “We didn’t part well, so… you know.”
“I understand that you’re confused and doubting your feelings,” Kaice replied.
“Unfortunately, I can’t help with that, but suppressing the memories is not the answer.
The more you fight them, the more intense they’ll become.
I’m sure you’ve already noticed that. Once everything settles down, you’ll be able to think with a clear head and find answers to your questions. ”
This wasn’t the outcome Ehlian had expected. He was no closer to healing. If anything, this felt like a setback. Knowing he’d have to let those memories surface only made him feel more defeated.
“There’s something else I want to ask,” Ehlian said uncertainly. “If you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.”
“Is there a way to fake a core signature?” Ehlian asked. “Could you do that as a High-Class telepath?”
There was a subtle warning in Kaice’s eyes. “Should I be worried about your intentions?”
“No,” Ehlian said quickly. “Of course not. There was… someone in prison who claimed theirs was faked. I didn’t believe it, but I can’t quite get it out of my head.”
“Your core signature contains your essence,” Kaice said.
“It forms with you throughout your life, which is why almost no one can recreate that lived experience. It’s unique to each of us.
” Kaice paused, considering. “I could fake yours to near perfection and bury the traces of mine somewhere deep in the victim’s mind, but eventually it would be found.
The court has signature experts for these cases for a reason. ”
“Right.” Ehlian didn’t know why he felt so disappointed. “I know it was impossible, I just wanted to make sure.”
“I never said it was impossible.”
Ehlian frowned. “There’s a way?”
“There is,” Kaice said. “An Apex telepath is capable of it without leaving traces of their own signature behind. Their power is technically limitless.”
Unable to help himself, Ehlian let out a small, incredulous laugh, hoping Kaice wouldn’t take offence. Apex-Class telepaths were a myth, legends born with incredibly dense cores and unfathomable power. “Apex telepaths are extinct.”
“Apex telepaths are legally extinct,” Kaice corrected, his face still serious. “That loophole was closed so no one could evade prosecution by claiming an Apex could falsify a core signature.”
Ehlian’s head was swimming. “So they do exist?”
“Technically, calling them extinct isn’t entirely inaccurate. There can’t be more than a handful of them alive on the whole of Arox,” Kaice said. “That said, they’re untraceable and hide their ability to avoid being hunted.”
“How can you hide that kind of power?”
“Could you tell I was a High-Class telepath if you didn’t already know?”
“No,” Ehlian admitted. “And that, I suppose, makes them impossible for anyone to find.”
“You can find them, if you know where to look,” Kaice said.
“Last I heard, they reside somewhere they’re not hunted and have free rein to use their power.
More often than not, they’re used as weapons.
But it’s impossible to get into their tight-knit circles unless you have power and influence—and most importantly money and a willingness to keep things confidential. ”
Curiosity piqued, Ehlian asked, trying to sound innocent, “Do you know where that place is?”
“That, as you may understand, I’m reluctant to share with you,” Kaice’s voice tightened. “I would not advise you to seek them out under any circumstances.”
“Am I in trouble? Did you tell me too much?”
“Nothing I shared with you is a secret, and in a few days you’ll doubt everything I said anyway.
” Kaice predicted, his voice softening. “The common belief is that Apex telepaths are extinct, and since there are no publicly documented cases of anyone encountering them for centuries, most people choose to believe that. Rightly so—proving their existence is difficult, unless you already know where and who to look for.”
A quiet knock on the door cut the conversation short, Kaice’s secretary poking her head in. “I’m sorry, sir. Your next client is here—it’s an urgent case.”
“Thank you, Daphne,” Kaice said before turning back to Ehlian. “I’m sorry, Ehlian. I have a packed schedule today. If the memory resurgence gets worse, come and see me again.”
It was already pretty fucking bad. “What do you mean, worse?”
“When the memories become indistinguishable from the present and you can’t snap out of them. Some people get trapped, or worse, addicted to the memories and want to stay in them.”
“There’s no danger of that, believe me,” Ehlian said, his tone flat.
He thanked Kaice for his time and left, his head now swirling with even greater chaos.
*
Ehlian let the memories run their course.
It was like living two separate lives: one with Hayce during the nights, and one with Willian during the day.
By the end of the first week, his sexual energy nearly burned through his skin.
Reliving some of the memories always left him breathless.
He tried to resist, he really tried, but the next time a memory of Hayce rimming him surfaced, his hand involuntarily wandered down his belly, brushing lower until he touched himself.
Whatever. He wouldn’t do it again.
At least, that was what he told himself every time it happened.
Living this… double life was draining. The memories weren’t long, but they still kept him awake after they passed. He analysed them, searching for signs of Hayce’s deceiving nature, trying to figure out where he had failed to see through the mask. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
When he had told Willian about the Apex telepath theory, he had immediately laughed it off, not even willing to entertain the topic. Ehlian had gone as far as calling up Daribon, who he had dismissed both the possibility and the existence of Apex telepaths outright.
So Ehlian remained alone with the sliver of his doubt… but even that slowly vanished, acknowledging the absurdity of the theory.
By the eighth month after his release, he noticed something strange.
The memories began to shift. The cell, the bed, the lounge, their conversations—none of it felt quite right anymore.
The details no longer lined up. He couldn’t explain exactly what was off.
He just knew they didn’t fully reflect reality anymore.
The length of the memories started to shorten too. Some parts were still sharp, but others became hazy, disjointed, slipping away.
Slowly, they began to fade.