There are known instances of interrupted feedback loops, where the user had begun the draw of energy but engaged in it for only a few brief moments. These users report feelings of euphoria and extreme pleasure associated with the absorption of magic. No doubt, this contributes to the difficulty of feedback-loop interruption. In plain terms: stealing magic produces pleasure and is self-rewarding, so much so that many users do not want to stop, and, after a few minutes, they find they cannot.
For the purposes of this study, eleven confirmed instances of interrupted feedback loop were examined, and in nine out of eleven cases, the users reattempted the feedback loop at a later date. All nine lost their humanity and had to be destroyed, as they presented an imminent threat to others. It is this author’s opinion that surviving one interrupted loop is possible; however, interrupting such a loop for a second time is beyond the limits of human will.
Kaldar looked up from the page. “What does that mean?”
“How much did George tell you?”
“I know that you were injured, ran into the Edge, she healed you, then the slavers came, killed the boys’ grandmother, set the house on fire, and threw you in the cage. Charlotte saved you.”
“When she found us, she initiated a feedback loop. It was her first time killing, and she didn’t think she had enough power. She can kill without it, but every time she does, her magic pushes her toward making it again.”
“And if she does?”
“She will pull magic to her from her enemies and send it out as a plague, then she will drain more magic and send that out, and on and on, until everyone around her is dead. She would become a plaguebringer. She would never stop.”
“So she would become an unstoppable crazed mass murder.”
“Yes.”
“Does she know?”
“She knows. She asked me to kill her if she succumbs to it. I tried to talk her out of fighting the slavers, but she refuses to walk away.”
Kaldar sank into the couch. His face was completely serious, something that almost never happened.
“Congratulations,” he said, his voice dry. “You finally managed to find a woman as tragically noble as yourself. I didn’t think one existed.”
“I’m not tragic.”
Kaldar held up his hand. “Spare me. Some children are born wearing a silk shirt; you were born wrapped in melancholy. When they slapped you to make you cry, you just sighed heavily and a single tear rolled from your eye.” He dragged his finger from the corner of his left eye to his cheek. “Your first words were probably ‘woe is me.’”
“My first words were ‘Kaldar, shut up!’ because you talked too much. Still do.”
“You have grimly acknowledged the sadness of your situation since you were a kid. You don’t even notice it anymore.”
Richard leaned forward. “Would it be better if I turned everything into a constant joke?”
“Well, someone has to make you laugh; otherwise, you’d collapse under the burden of being you. People can share in the joke. Nobody can share in your anguish.”
“I’ve been the butt of your jokes all my life, and let me tell you, it’s not quite as fun.”
They stared at each other. If Richard had a wet wig in his hands, he would’ve thrown it against the wall and kicked his brother in the chest. Sadly, they were too old to brawl.
“That’s why the face,” Kaldar said. “You did it for her, so you can be on the inside, working against the Five instead of her. Is she worth it?”
“Is Audrey worth it?” Richard asked.
“Leave my wife out of it.”
“You gave yourself up to the Hand for her. Was it worth it?”
“Yes. And I’d do it again.” Kaldar sighed. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “What do you need from me?”
“I’ll need your help,” Richard said.
“You have it. We’re family.”
Richard went to the wine cabinet, got a bottle of green wine and two glasses, and brought it over. He poured the wine. Kaldar swallowed some and smiled. “Tastes like home. Where did you find the berries? I thought they only grew in the Mire?”
“Aunt Pete grew them somehow in a greenhouse behind her home.” He let the wine roll down his throat. The delicious light taste refreshed him, whispering of swamp and home.
Brennan, Lady Augustine, blueblood society, all of it, he could handle. They were just people. But he had no idea how to protect Charlotte from herself. He couldn’t lose her. He tensed at the thought, his muscles locked, as if he were fighting for his life. Fear gripped him. He was so rarely afraid, and here he sat, terrified.
Suggesting that she sit this one out would only have the opposite effect. She would just fight harder.
He went over the plan in his head. They would lay a two-part trap for Brennan, and he would take care of the first half of the plan. With luck, Brennan would take his bait, and Charlotte’s involvement might not even be necessary. If he failed to entice Brennan, the plan didn’t call for her to use much of her power, only for the use of her name and position. She would be in minimal danger.
If they succeeded by some crazy stroke of luck, he would do everything in his power to make her happy.
“You really didn’t try to kill yourself?” Kaldar asked.
Damn it. “Killing yourself requires desperation. I wasn’t desperate. You know why I drank? I drank because I was angry. I swore to love her and defend her. I gave her a house, I provided for her, and I treated her well. Even if she didn’t love me, it should’ve been enough. Had she left me for a man, I would understand. I would be angry, but I wouldn’t want to keep her with me against her will if she chose another man. She left me because her life wasn’t nice enough. That’s how low I ranked, somewhere down below the ‘nice house’ and ‘no mud in the yard.’ I drank because I was pissed off and didn’t want to do something stupid.”
“Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”
“I deserved better than a f**king note!”
“Maybe she was afraid she couldn’t leave with you there,” Kaldar said.
“What the hell does that mean?” Richard spread his arms. “Are you implying I’d hurt her?”
“No, I’m implying that Marissa was never much for confrontations. Although I don’t know, you’re a scary bastard when you get going.” Kaldar winked at him.
Richard pointed at him.