The enthrallment was a done deal. The tether was set, a silent leash David could feel in the back of his skull like a new muscle. Mara sat slumped, the violent spasms gone, replaced by the sullen, simmering stillness of a caged predator. The problem was solved. My problem, anyway.

  David watched the survivors. Their glances toward Mara were soft with a gratitude that made his teeth ache. They're giving her a fucking medal for grand theft life force.

  Good. Let them think she's a recovering hero. Makes her easier to control and keeps them from asking the right questions.

  He felt a subtle pulse through the [Infernal Thrall] tether. Mara was playing her part, looking drained and noble, but the connection betrayed her simmering resentment. She’s a bad patient. Probably a worse employee.

  Rhea and Jamie approached. Jamie’s usual energy was subdued, his eyes darting between David and Mara. Rhea’s gaze was a surgical instrument. The new skill hummed in his mind, a live wire of control. [Infernal Thrall]. Mara was still shaking at his feet, a mess of twitching limbs.

  He focused on the tether, a feeling like a taut fishing line connected to his sternum. He pushed a sliver of demonic energy down it.

  "Be—" he started, then cut himself off. Was I just about to say 'be still'? Who do I think I am, a fucking Jedi? He sighed, the sound heavy with annoyance. "Stay still."

  Mara froze. Instantly. Not like a person deciding to obey. Like a puppet with its strings cut. Her eyes snapped wide, the horror in them so pure it was almost boring.

  He felt a stupid smile trying to twist his lips and killed it. Not the time. He reined in the energy, letting the vicious current flowing through her settle into a low, manageable hum. Her breathing evened out from ragged gasps to something almost normal. He kept a hand on her shoulder, playing the part of the concerned healer for anyone watching, but his eyes were running a diagnostic scan. No horns. No fangs. No tail poking through her jeans. No obvious urge to start chewing on the passengers.

  He leaned in, pretending to check her pupils. And there it was. The outer edge of her iris, where the brown met the white, was lined with a hair-thin ring of faint, bloody red. You had to be right in her face to see it. Staring into her eyes like a lover or some shit. Which was a hard pass.

  So the side effect was cosmetic. For now. He pulled back. Okay. So I can make her freeze. What else can this thing do? This couldn't be the whole trick. Skills were like toolkits. His energy affinity let him feel power, pull it in, and push it around. This thrall thing had to have more settings. Could he make her walk? Talk? Could he see through her eyes? The potential was a lot more interesting than the moral hangover.

  He glanced over at Jamie, who was trying to look tough and mostly just looking young. Maybe the kid's assassin class isn't so dumb after all. An ice-powered extrovert, murdering everyone with a smile and a personal space invasion. In this world, it'd probably work.

  David stood up, brushing dirt from his knees. "She'll be fine," he announced to the fuselage at large, his voice a door slamming shut on the subject. He turned and walked toward the torn opening at the other end of the plane, putting physical distance between them. Let her stew. Let her think the leash has a limit.

  He counted his steps. Ten. Twenty. The length of the wreckage stretched between them. Okay. Field test. He focused on the tether, that new, quiet wire in his mind, and sent a single, sharp pulse of demonic energy down the line—a yank on the chain.

  Back where he'd left her, without looking, he felt mara—felt her become aware of his presence, her wide, terrified eyes searching for him across the crowded space.

  Message received, he thought, and turned his back on her again, continuing his walk. The lesson was simple, cost nothing, and established the new chain of command. No need for speeches. She knew who held the leash, and now she knew he could yank it from anywhere. Basic logistics.

  But something else happened. A strange jolt of sensation—like heat and adrenaline, mixed with something indescribable. They both felt it at the same time, unlike anything David had felt before. Back where he'd left her, Mara jolted. Her head snapped up.

  They both slowed, David, about to exit the plane, Mara in speaking to Corbin—both equally confused.

  This time, it was different. The pulse traveled back along the connection, and it carried the sensation with it. A wave of pure, undiluted feeling. It wasn't a thought. It was a cold splash of terror, a sharp tang of hatred so fresh David could almost taste it, and underneath it all, a thick, sludgy despair. What the hell was that? A phantom sensation of her muscles locking up, a tension that echoed in his own limbs. What exactly am I feeling here?

  The connection was more than he’d initially thought; more than a wire for power. It’s a two-way street, and feelings are leaking through.

  David stopped completely. He turned slowly, meeting her gaze over the heads of the confused survivors. Her eyes were wide, locked on his. And as he looked, the connection flared brighter in his mind. The foreign emotions settled into a constant, low-grade stream. He could feel the frantic rabbit-pulse of her heart as if it were his own. He could feel the tension coiling in her shoulders. No way. Can I...?

  He held her eyes. He didn't push words. He pushed the concept. He bundled up the cold, pragmatic calculation in his own head and shoved it down the tether, aiming it right at the heart of her panic. It was a messy, clumsy thing, like trying to throw a thought.

  Stay with Corbin for now.

  Mara flinched. Her eyes widened further, the horror in them shifting into pure, uncomprehending shock. She’d heard him. Not with her ears. In her skull.

  A fierce, cold thrill shot through David. It works. It actually works. He refined the next push, focusing the intent, making it a clear, brutal command.

  But you're with me. Your life is a line item on my balance sheet. Get them killed, and you're a wasted resource. A liability. Stop using your skill like a dumbass trying to show off. Get stronger. I need a sharp tool, not a rusty spoon. Keep your secrets. Hide what you are from them. But use them. For me. When it's time to face something big, I'll point, and you'll drain it dry. Build an army, if you can that is. You feel a real threat? You come find me. Level up. Don't die without my permission.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  He let the torrent of raw, utilitarian directive flood into her. It wasn't a conversation, not exactly. Instead, it had been an update. A directive. He watched her process it, the emotions in the tether shifting from shock to a grim, trapped understanding. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

  David broke the gaze, turning his back on her once more. The connection remained, a live feed of her simmering resentment and newfound compliance. Good. Infiltrate Corbin's group. Be their hero. And wait for my signal. He planned to control her every move. But he had more pressing concerns—focusing on her was stupid; who said he couldn’t make more thralls?

  Who said they even had to be human?

  “Nobody, that’s who,” David muttered. He had no intention of becoming anything other than a front liner, as personal strength mattered just as much as means.

  But now, he could talk to her anytime he wanted. He could make thralls. He wasn’t sure of the limit—if he could even make more than one… but This? This changed everything.

  A soft, frayed voice cut through his thoughts. “I thought I was the only one who could… fix things.”

  The healer girl, her face still pale and damp with the sweat of her earlier efforts, pushed through the small crowd that had gathered. She looked from Mara, who was now breathing more evenly but staring at David with an unreadable expression, to David himself, who was watching with the detached focus of a bomb disposal expert.

  She looked younger up close, early twenties, her clothes stained, a messy braid coming undone.

  “Your skill is different,” she said, her eyes wide with a raw, desperate hope. “What you did for Mara… my light just slid right off her; made it worse. But you stopped the fit. You have a skill for curses, don’t you?”

  David looked at her, really looked. She wasn't a threat or a liability. At least, not now. Now, because of his new skill… this was the single most important person in the entire wreckage. He let the silence hang for a beat, then answered, his voice low but not unkind. “I have a skill for problems.”

  She stopped in front of him, her hands, which had just partially regrown a man's arm, trembling slightly at her sides. "David, right?" she said, her voice quiet but clear.

  He noticed her, looking hesitant. Up close, she seemed even younger, maybe early twenties, her face pale under the grime, her brown ponytail coming undone. "The one who killed the warlock?"

  "Yeah, that's me," David said, offering a small, tired smile. "Didn't get much of a Yelp review from him, though."

  The joke was weak, but it did the job. A hint of relief crossed her face. Someone who could make a joke, even a bad one, couldn't be a complete monster.

  "I'm Chloe," she said, stepping a bit closer. "I saw what you just did. Your energy... it's different from mine. Darker. But you were helping her. Stabilizing her." She gestured toward Mara.

  David nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "Looks that way. Seems we've both got jobs we didn't apply for."

  A woman with a tired, kind face approached them then, holding two dented plastic water bottles. She wordlessly pressed one into David's hand, then gave one to Chloe, patting David's shoulder before moving away. The simple gesture was heavier than any speech.

  Chloe clutched the bottle like a lifeline. "Mark and Sarah... the couple they took... I was talking to them right before. Sarah was scared of flying. Mark was holding her hand." Her voice hitched, but she fought to keep it steady. "I couldn't do anything. When the hobgoblins came, it was so fast. I was just trying to stop the bleeding, but there was so much of it." She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "If you had been here..."

  David's slight smile vanished. He didn't offer empty platitudes. Instead, he met her gaze, his own serious and direct. "If I'd been here, I would have been fighting. Maybe I could have saved them. Maybe I'd be the one who got taken. Or worse, gotten more people killed by making a wrong move." He shook his head. "Don't do that to yourself. 'What if' is a hole with no bottom. You're here now. You saved Henderson's arm. That's a fact. That's what matters right now."

  A second of silence came that felt longer than it should have.

  “Hey,” he said, his tone softer than he usually allowed. He leaned into his chair. “Look at me, Chloe. They’re gone. Crying won’t find them. But keeping the rest alive? That’s the job. And you’re the only one who can do your part of it.”

  She looked up, sniffing hard, her gaze searching his. The conversation, the direct acknowledgment of her value—it was a calculated dose of humanity, but it was also genuine. He needed her stable, not broken.

  “Right,” she said, squaring her shoulders with a visible effort. “Okay. The job.”

  “The job,” David confirmed, giving a final, brief squeeze before letting his hand drop. “You focus on the healing. I’ll focus on the problems. We’ll talk more.”

  He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but grounding.

  She took a shaky breath, nodding as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "It feels like I'm just... mopping up the blood after the slaughter."

  "Yeah," David said, the word simple and true. "Seems to be the main industry around here."

  He looked at her—really looked. Not at the miraculous power that could re-grow a limb, but at the raw, red pressure around her eyes from forcing herself not to fall apart. He saw the slight tremble in her fingers that had nothing to do with mana exhaustion. The second most valuable asset in the plane was a terrified young woman who looked like she might shatter if someone spoke too loudly.

  He gave her shoulder a final, firm squeeze before letting his hand drop. "Get some water," he said, his voice low. "What you did for Henderson... that was the real thing. Don't forget that."

  It was the closest he could come to saying, You matter. Don't give up. I need you to not be a useless wreck and heal my backup. He meant it too—she did matter, as a person, philosophically, as a member of the group, and as his personal walking mega-hospital.

  And from the way she straightened, David thought maybe she understood.

  Not the whole truth, not the ugly mechanics of it.

  But the part that mattered right now:

  she wasn’t allowed to fall apart.

  He watched her walk away, shoulders a little straighter. Good. A confident healer was less likely to freeze up next time one of his people took a hit they shouldn’t have survived.

  Now that he had [Infernal Thrall], the rest of the passengers’ utility dwindled drastically; to just how useful their skills were. And for him? Her skill was the most immediately critical—even more than Mara’s.

  David had plans. Not grand, world-saving designs—those were for idiots and soon-to-be corpses. His plans were small, nasty, and practical. A sharpened stake here. A better grip on his spear there. Figuring out if he could make the demonic energy in his veins do more than just make him fast and strong. Maybe I can use it to polish my boots. Or start a campfire. The little things.

  He watched Chloe, her posture a fraction straighter than before. Better. A healer who doesn't think she's useless is a healer who works faster. Basic maintenance. It had cost him nothing to give her that. A few words. A squeeze of the shoulder that said I see your work and it keeps me alive. It was an investment. The returns were already paying off.

  He turned his attention to the thrall tether in his mind. Mara was a sullen, simmering knot of resentment on the other end. Fine. Be pissed. Just be ready to drain the next big ugly thing that shows up. He tested the connection, a gentle mental poke. He felt her flinch on the other side, a spike of pure fury followed by forced calm. Range is good. Feedback is clear. She can't hide her reactions. Perfect.

  Rhea approached, her expression unreadable as ever. "We need to scout the tree line. The hobs came from the west."

  "Right," David said. "New formation. Mara walks point with me."

  Rhea's eyebrows went up a millimeter. That was the entirety of her surprise.

  David shrugged. "She's got a good nose for trouble. Might as well use it." And if there's an ambush, she's the one who gets hit with the first volley. He didn't say that part out loud. Some plans you kept to yourself.