Bastion's defensive system revealed itself layer by layer as Morgan led them deeper into the fortress. The outer wall, massive as it had seemed from a distance, was merely the first of many circular barriers, each designed to funnel attackers into killing grounds while protecting what lay at the center.
The first checkpoint came immediately after the main gates - a courtyard that appeared deceptively open but was overlooked by arrow slits and murder holes from every angle. Guards in Bastion's colors stood at attention, their eyes following every movement as Morgan presented credentials that allowed their group passage.
*Twelve guards visible,* Sunny noted mentally to Nephis, *probably twice that hidden.*
*And those positions above us,* Nephis responded, her thoughts tight with concentration, *perfect for both archers and essence users.*
They passed through a second gate, smaller than the first but no less formidable. This led them into a curved corridor that spiraled gradually inward, its walls lined with regular checkpoints. Each station required Morgan to stop, present identification, and verify their group's authorization to proceed.
The third ring of defenses presented a series of interlocking courtyards, each one visible from multiple towers. The layout was clever - any invading force would be forced to cross these spaces under concentrated fire from above, while the curved nature of the walls made it impossible to maintain formation or bring siege weapons to bear effectively.
*If we needed to retreat,* Sunny analyzed as they walked, *we'd have to fight our way through each ring separately.*
*And each ring could be sealed independently,* Nephis added, noting the heavy portcullises and reinforced doors at every threshold.
The fourth checkpoint introduced them to Bastion's elite guards - warriors whose presence carried the weight of significant power. These weren't mere soldiers but selected fighters, each likely capable of holding their own against a small army. They examined Morgan's credentials with particular scrutiny, their gazes lingering on Sunny and Nephis with calculated assessment.
The fifth ring brought them into what appeared to be the administrative heart of Bastion. Here, the military atmosphere gave way to something more ceremonial, though no less secure. The guards here wore more ornate armor, and the walls bore elaborate decorations that likely concealed additional defensive measures.
*Notice how the floor patterns guide movement?* Sunny observed. *Forcing specific paths, probably trapped elsewhere.*
*And the ceiling height changed,* Nephis noted. *Better for containing essence abilities.*
Through it all, their cohort followed in tense silence. Kai's archer eyes couldn't help but appreciate the defensive positions they passed. Jet's cold gaze cataloged every guard rotation and patrol pattern. Effie's hunger had been completely forgotten in the face of such overwhelming security.
The sixth ring presented a maze-like series of corridors, each bend and turn designed to disorient and confuse. But Morgan moved through them with practiced ease, never hesitating at intersections, never pausing to consider her route. This was clearly a path she had walked many times before.
Finally, they reached their destination - an interrogation room that somehow managed to be both sparse and intimidating. The walls were bare stone, but of such perfect fit that not even a knife blade could find purchase between blocks. A single table dominated the center, with chairs on either side. The lighting came from essence-powered globes that cast no shadows, eliminating any possibility of essence users taking advantage of darkness.
"Sit," Morgan instructed, gesturing to two chairs on one side of the table.
Sunny and Nephis exchanged glances before complying. Their cohort would be led elsewhere, they knew - kept close enough to serve as leverage if needed, but far enough to prevent any coordinated resistance.
*Six rings of defense,* Sunny summarized as they sat. *Each one capable of operating independently, each one able to contain threats from either direction.*
*And we're now at the heart of it all,* Nephis concluded, her thoughts carrying a mix of professional admiration and personal concern.
The door closed behind Morgan with a sound of finality, leaving them alone in the shadowless room. Now all they could do was wait, knowing that somewhere above them, through all those layers of ancient stone and careful planning, Anvil's presence would eventually descend upon Bastion like a storm cloud promising lightning.
The interrogation room's silence pressed in around them, broken only by their measured breathing as they prepared themselves for the questioning to come. They had passed through Bastion's physical defenses - now they would have to navigate its psychological ones with equal care.
The door opened with deliberate slowness, and Morgan entered looking exactly as she had on the battlefield - composed, authoritative, her black armor still drinking in the shadowless light. But Sunny's shadow sense caught what others would miss: her shadow writhed with barely contained fury, though her face betrayed nothing of this inner storm.
*She's angry,* he projected to Nephis, *deeply angry. But I don't know why.*
*Could be about us, could be about something else entirely,* Nephis responded, maintaining her outward calm. *Stay alert.*
Morgan took her seat across from them, laying a series of documents on the table with precise movements. "Let's begin with the gate," she said, her voice controlled despite her shadow's turmoil. "How did it appear? What triggered it?"
Sunny felt his flaw activate - that immutable compulsion toward truth that had shaped so much of his life. But years of practice had taught him how to dance with it rather than fight it. "The gate manifested without warning," he said, his voice carrying just the right note of uncertainty to make truth sound like fabrication. "One moment we were at the ball, the next we were facing abominations."
It was completely true, yet delivered in such a way that it seemed to hide deeper secrets. His mastery of this technique had become an art form - using his inability to lie as a weapon, wrapping truth in layers of apparent deception until even the most skilled interrogator would waste time looking for lies that didn't exist.
"And the abominations themselves?" Morgan pressed, her eyes sharp. "How did you discover their weakness?"
Nephis followed Sunny's lead, adopting his strategy of truth-disguised-as-deception. "Trial and error," she said, which was accurate but delivered with just enough hesitation to seem suspicious. "We noticed my flames had a particular effect on their face coverings." She was good at this game, though not quite as practiced as Sunny - there was still a slight tell in the way she held her shoulders.
The questioning continued, Morgan's shadow betraying increasing frustration as she failed to catch them in any obvious lies. She asked about their combat tactics, their coordination, their discoveries about the abominations' ability to grow stronger when reformed.
Each answer Sunny gave was perfectly truthful yet delivered with such artful misdirection that it seemed to suggest hidden meanings and concealed information. "The cloth had to be destroyed first," he explained, making this crucial truth sound like a smokescreen for deeper secrets. "Otherwise, they would simply return stronger."
*She's getting more frustrated,* he noted to Nephis. *Her shadow's practically screaming now.*
*Keep going,* Nephis responded. *The more she looks for lies in truth, the less she'll see the actual things we're not telling her.*
The interrogation room's harsh lighting continued to eliminate any natural shadows, but it couldn't hide what Sunny's shadow sense revealed - Morgan's growing rage and frustration as she failed to pierce what she believed to be their deceptions, never suspecting that the greatest deception was making the truth sound false.
"And your cohort's survival rate?" Morgan asked, her knuckles white against the document she held. "How did you maintain it against such overwhelming odds?"
"We worked together," Sunny replied, the simple truth delivered with such apparent evasiveness that it begged to be disbelieved. "Each member played to their strengths." His flaw hummed contentedly - not a single lie had passed his lips, yet every word seemed to suggest elaborate untruths.
Throughout it all, both Sunny and Nephis maintained their careful balance - revealing enough to satisfy the questioning while making even their most honest answers seem suspect.
It was a dangerous game, but one they had no choice but to play, with the weight of Bastion's stone walls around them and the knowledge that somewhere above, Anvil's presence could descend upon them at any moment.
The interrogation had reached a fever pitch, with Morgan's carefully maintained composure fraying at the edges. Her shadow, visible only to Sunny's unique perception, writhed with such violent emotion that it seemed ready to take physical form.
Every truth disguised as deception, every honest answer that sounded like a lie, had pushed her closer to the edge of her control.
Then everything changed.
The pressure descended upon Bastion like a storm front, heavy and inevitable. Anvil's presence rolled through the ancient fortress's corridors and chambers, seeping through stone walls as if they were mere paper. Sunny and Nephis felt their carefully constructed verbal defenses begin to crumble under that overwhelming weight.
*This is bad,* Sunny projected to Nephis, feeling their advantage slipping away. *He'll see right through us.*
*If he questions us directly...* Nephis left the thought unfinished, but her concern radiated through their mental link.
Morgan's transformation was immediate and striking. Her shadow, which had been churning with barely contained rage, suddenly stilled like a turbulent sea going glass-smooth.
Her physical demeanor shifted as well, the tension in her shoulders easing as if a weight had been lifted. Without another word, she gathered her documents and left the room, the door closing behind her with a sound that seemed unusually final.
The minutes that followed stretched like hours. The shadowless interrogation room felt smaller somehow, as if Anvil's pressure was physically compressing the space around them. They waited for the door to open, for the armored figure to fill the frame, for the real questioning to begin.
But nobody came.
After what felt like an eternity of anticipation, Sunny made a decision. He closed his eyes, appearing to anyone watching through the room's hidden observation points as if he were merely collecting his thoughts. Instead, he expanded his shadow sense, pushing it out through the fortress like an invisible tide.
The ability flowed through Bastion's corridors and chambers, reading the stories told by every shadow it encountered. Guard patrols marked their passages in rhythmic intervals of darkness.
Servants moved through hidden passages, their shadows flickering like nervous birds. But he was searching for specific shadows, and he found them in what could only be Bastion's throne room.
The chamber was vast, its high ceiling lost in darkness despite the essence-powered illumination. Anvil sat upon a throne that seemed carved from the same ancient stone as the fortress itself, his armor reflecting light in ways that created shadows as sharp as blade edges. Before him stood Morgan, her own shadow now perfectly controlled, giving her report with military precision.
Sunny couldn't hear their words - shadow sense didn't work that way - but he could read the subtle interplay of their shadows. Anvil's presence dominated the room like a physical force, yet there was something almost gentle in how his shadow interacted with Morgan's. Paternal, perhaps, though no less powerful for it.
*They're in the throne room,* he informed Nephis, maintaining his appearance of quiet contemplation. *She's reporting to him. Her shadow's completely calm now - almost too calm.*
*A mask for him as well?* Nephis wondered, her own posture relaxed despite their situation.
*No,* Sunny replied, continuing to observe through his shadow sense. *This feels different. Like his presence somehow neutralizes whatever was causing her rage.*
They watched through Sunny's ability as Morgan concluded her report and left the throne room, her shadow moving with precise, controlled motions that spoke of years of military discipline. Time stretched on, and then her physical form appeared at their door once more.
"Lord Anvil will see you now," she announced, her voice carrying none of the frustrated edge from their earlier interaction. "He awaits you in the throne room."
As they rose to follow her, Sunny and Nephis exchanged glances heavy with meaning. They were about to face someone who could likely see through their carefully constructed facades of truth-masked-as-lies.
Someone whose mere presence had nearly brought them to their knees on the battlefield.
*Together?* Nephis's thought carried both question and resolve.
*Together,* Sunny confirmed, his mental voice steady despite their shared apprehension.
They followed Morgan through Bastion's labyrinthine corridors, the pressure growing stronger with each step closer to the throne room. Their earlier strategy of deceptive truths would be useless now.
Against Anvil's overwhelming presence, they would need something else entirely - though what that might be, neither of them yet knew.