Erwan had resisted for a long time. Too long.
The poison had weakened him, but it was the fear of Daemon that made him talk. Cold fear. Not fear of pain—he had endured worse—but fear of the void, of the icy determination he saw in the young man's eyes. Daemon wasn't just seeking the truth. At one point, Erwan even thought he wanted more than just a confession—so he could torture him again and again.
Between spasms and refusals, he had bargained, begged, screamed. Daemon yielded nothing. Neither the antidote nor silence.
After relentless beatings, humiliation, and slow agony, Erwan cracked.
"It's your grandfather… He ordered me to spy on you. Since you entered the Academy. And to… secretly deliver resources to Morgan. He even told me not to interfere if you were in danger… and to kill you if you ever went after Morgan."
Daemon remained still. His eyes closed for a moment. Then he took a deep breath.
"I see."
