Hiegal opened his eyes slowly and with a surprising amount of difficulty. There was a painful ringing in his ears that he could not understand, and the back of his head felt hollow and swollen. The only thing he could see was a blurry, indistinct field of blue. He blinked twice, wincing from the effort this took. The blue field resolved itself into the folds of expensive fabric. He looked up. There were diamonds suspended over the fabric. Rosy pink diamonds, carved from soft quartz. That meant something, but what?

Hiegal felt himself lifted up, but not anything touching him to do so. Pictures, images, floated before his eyes as his shoulders were dragged up a stone wall. There, dividing the blue, a line of silver from left to right. Round disks of silver, with small diamonds of rose in the centre. What did that mean? He was lifted higher, the back of his head thudding painfully with a wall sconce. The fabric smoothed its folds. Now there was a large silver disk, suspended on a fine chain. This disk had a diamond, too, but laying on its side… What does that mean?

Hiegal squinted. Through the pain, he could see a smaller silver disk in that diamond, and inside it a smaller diamond, also on its side. A glint caught his eye, and he trembled, suddenly certain that the disk and diamond and disk would repeat on forever, but he had no idea how he knew this. He continued to rise.

Now, there, an end to the fabric and pale skin. Then short, thick, black hair. Chin… beard… face. Hiegal shut his eyes and moaned. Eyes. He knew those eyes. “Why?” His voice sounded distant, as if it had to cross the greatest desert to reach his throat, and even there could not find a drop of water.

“I have more than sufficient evidence to convince the Master Empath, Hiegal,” the other man said. “You’ve been collaborating with those deluded fools, those meddlers who hope to undo the world!” The last words were a bitter, deadly hiss.

“It is magic,” Hiegal replied slowly, every word costing him the little strength he had left.

“There is no magic, fool. Your mind has become closed.” The other man reached out, towards Hiegal, and he tried to dig into the wall with his shoulders. He couldn’t look away from those eyes. He saw, then felt the hand reach onto his chest, and there was a burning in the back of his neck as something snapped free. “This,” the other man held up a silver disk, with a rose diamond on its side set into the centre, “is denied to you. As is your life.”

Hiegal tried to speak, but there were no words he could form. He tried to think, but his head felt unbearably hollow, and much too light. He knew that, somehow, he was floating. Floating over the Mountains of Sleep, over the farming village where he’d been raised, over islands of the Great Ring. The sun set, but no stars came out. He felt, very distantly, his body convulse.

The other man waited until the heels of Hiegal’s boots stopped beating against the wall, then released his concentration. The body, now nothing but empty, spoiling meat, collapsed in a satisfyingly limp pile on the floorboards. The Master Empath must be informed, but first a servant should be found, to dispose of the remains.