From the Murder Museum, Chapter 17, Story up to subscribers now.

"Hanavari screamed—a sound of pure, dominant fury, not pain.

She was brimming with the Maiden's power. She was full of ownership.

She was the source code.

She didn't dodge. She didn't shield.

She grabbed the beam of energy out of the air. Her hand closed around the raw, shimmering data.

Thorne's eyes went wide behind his cracked glasses. "That's... that's impossible..."

"My turn," she snarled.

She didn't reflect it. She audited it. She found its source.

And she pulled.

Thorne was ripped from his feet, flying across the room as if hooked by an invisible, psychic chain.

He wasn't just pulled; his mind was being siphoned, his deepest knowledge extracted.

She caught him by the throat with one hand, slamming him against the concrete wall and lifting him two feet off the floor, his feet dangling.

He clawed at her hand, his academic mind completely broken by this raw, primal, physical dominance.

He was submitting. He was terrified.

Hanavari fed. She didn't just drain his will. She drained his knowledge.

She siphoned his Level 1 access, his administrative passwords, the real security protocols...

...and the location of the deeper vault.

He went limp, his eyes rolling back, a string of drool leaking from his mouth.

She had everything.

She dropped him like a sack of garbage. He wasn't dead, but his mind was... wiped.

A blank ledger.

She looked at her hand. She was brimming with Thorne's cold, logical, Concord-style magic. It felt clean.

It was a new, useful flavor of power."