# The Crystal Thief's Heart
## Chapter 6: Interrogations and Revelations (Featuring Unwelcome Family Connections)
The formal interrogation room that Councillor Moonwhisper conjured in Darian's sitting room was, Kira had to admit, impressively thorough. Truth-seeing crystals floated at the corners of the space, their pale light casting everything in stark, unforgiving clarity. Silence wards ensured that no conversation could be overheard beyond the room's boundaries. And the chairs—uncomfortable, straight-backed things that seemed designed to make sitting an act of endurance—were definitely enchanted to prevent any attempt at deception through body language.
It was, in short, exactly the kind of magical setup that made professional liars extremely nervous.
"Now then," Moonwhisper said, settling herself across from Kira with the satisfied air of a cat who'd cornered particularly interesting prey, "let's discuss your background in acquisitions, shall we?"
Kira fought the urge to fidget under the woman's penetrating stare. The truth crystals hummed softly, ready to detect any falsehood, and she could feel the weight of the other Council members' attention pressing against her like a physical force. Darian sat beside her, his presence steady and reassuring through their mental connection, but she knew that whatever happened next, the words would have to be hers.
"What would you like to know?" she asked, aiming for professional courtesy despite the fact that her palms were sweating.
"Let's start with specifics. What was the most valuable item you ever... acquired... for research purposes?"
The question was a trap, obviously. Answer with something too small, and Moonwhisper would know she was lying. Answer with something too large, and she'd be confessing to crimes that could see her executed. The truth crystals pulsed gently, waiting.
"The Midnight Crown of Valdris," Kira said finally, choosing an acquisition that was impressive enough to be believable but old enough that the statute of limitations had expired. "Retrieved it from a private collector who had... questionable claims to ownership."
"Ah yes, Lord Blackthorne's collection." Moonwhisper's smile was sharp. "I remember that particular case. The Crown was returned to the Valdris Museum with a note suggesting that Lord Blackthorne should be more careful about his sources in the future. Quite the scandal."
Kira kept her expression neutral, though internally she was cursing the woman's apparently encyclopedic knowledge of high-profile thefts from the past decade. "I believe the matter was resolved to everyone's satisfaction."
"Indeed. And how long have you been working with Archmage Stormweaver on his theoretical magical research?"
Another trap. If she claimed too long, they'd want to know why there was no record of her employment. If she said too recently, it would raise questions about the timing of the magical disturbance.
"We began corresponding about six months ago," she said carefully. "The practical work started more recently."
"Corresponding about what, specifically?"
Kira opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, Darian's voice cut through the tension with smooth authority.
"The applications of controlled stress in magical artifact activation," he said, his tone carrying the particular boredom of an academic discussing his specialty. "Miss Nightwhisper had some interesting theories about the relationship between magical resonance and external pressure factors."
"External pressure factors," Moonwhisper repeated, her pale eyes flicking between them. "How fascinating. And this research led to the events of last night?"
"An unexpected result," Darian admitted. "We were attempting to measure the resonance threshold of inactive Heartstones when Miss Nightwhisper's latent magical abilities interacted with the experimental setup in ways we hadn't anticipated."
"Latent magical abilities." Moonwhisper leaned forward, her attention fixing on Kira with uncomfortable intensity. "Tell me, Miss Nightwhisper, have you ever been tested for magical potential?"
This was dangerous territory. Most people with significant magical ability were identified and trained from childhood. Someone with Kira's apparent power level should have been noticed years ago, which meant her lack of formal training was either a remarkable oversight or evidence of deliberate concealment.
"Not formally," Kira said, which was technically true. The various magical practitioners who'd examined her scar over the years probably didn't count as formal testing. "I always assumed I was a null."
"A null who managed to activate seventeen Heartstones simultaneously." Moonwhisper's voice was dry. "How remarkably modest of you."
The truth crystals pulsed, detecting the layers of deception in Kira's statement without quite identifying them as outright lies. She was walking a very narrow line between honesty and self-preservation, and from Moonwhisper's expression, the Councillor knew it.
"Sometimes magical potential doesn't manifest until triggered by significant stress or trauma," offered one of the other Council members—a middle-aged man whose elaborate robes suggested he held a position of considerable authority. "Late awakening is rare but not unprecedented."
"Indeed, Councillor Greymantle," Moonwhisper agreed, though her eyes never left Kira's face. "Though generally late awakening involves rather less... dramatic results. Tell me, Miss Nightwhisper, do you have any family history of magical ability?"
The question hit Kira like a physical blow, and she felt the golden chain flare with heat as her emotional control wavered. Family history was exactly what she'd spent most of her adult life trying to avoid discussing, and the fact that Moonwhisper was asking suggested the woman already suspected more than she was letting on.
"Not that I'm aware of," Kira said carefully, fighting to keep her voice steady.
"Not that you're aware of." Moonwhisper tilted her head, studying Kira with the intensity of a scholar examining a particularly interesting specimen. "How curious. Because you see, Miss Nightwhisper, I've been doing some research of my own since we arrived this morning."
She gestured, and the air shimmered with magical energy before resolving into an image—a painting, old and formal, showing a woman with silver hair and eyes the exact shade of green as Kira's own. The woman was beautiful, regal, and radiating power that was visible even in painted form.
"The Lady Seraphina Nightwhisper," Moonwhisper said softly. "Last of the great magical bloodlines, disappeared during the Crimson Wars some twenty-five years ago. Presumed dead along with her entire family line."
Kira's blood turned to ice in her veins. She'd seen that face before—in dreams, in fragments of memory she'd spent years trying to forget, in the reflection of mirrors when she was tired enough that her mental defenses slipped. It was the face that haunted her nightmares and whispered to her in languages she didn't remember learning.
"I don't see the relevance," she managed, though her voice sounded strange and distant to her own ears.
"The relevance," Moonwhisper said, rising from her chair with predatory grace, "is that Lady Seraphina was the last known practitioner of bloodline magic in the Northern Kingdoms. Magic that was bound to specific family lines, passed down through generations, and capable of feats that modern practitioners can barely comprehend."
The truth crystals began to pulse more rapidly, responding to the emotional turmoil radiating from Kira like heat from a forge. She could feel Darian's concern through their mental connection, his desire to protect her warring with his political instincts about the danger of challenging the Council directly.
"Magic," Moonwhisper continued, circling behind Kira's chair like a shark scenting blood, "that was specifically designed to work with ancient artifacts. Magic that could, for instance, activate seventeen dormant Heartstones simultaneously and then bind them to a living person."
"Councillor," Darian said, his voice carrying a warning note, "I think you're reaching conclusions that aren't supported by the evidence."
"Am I?" Moonwhisper stopped directly behind Kira, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft and deadly. "Tell me, Miss Nightwhisper, what do you know about the Moon Witch?"
The words hit Kira like a physical blow, and the golden chain blazed with sudden, uncontrolled power. The truth crystals began to chime in alarm, magical energy crackled through the air, and somewhere in the depths of her mind, she heard a voice that wasn't entirely her own whispering in languages that predated human civilization.
*The blood remembers. The binding calls. The daughter has come home.*
"I don't know what you're talking about," Kira said, but the words came out wrong, layered with harmonics that shouldn't have been possible for a human throat to produce.
"Don't you?" Moonwhisper leaned down, her voice a whisper that somehow carried the weight of absolute authority. "Then perhaps you can explain why your magical signature is an exact match for someone who's been dead for twenty-five years."
The room exploded into chaos. Power flowed through Kira in waves, raw and uncontrolled, responding to emotions she couldn't contain. The truth crystals shattered, their light blinding. The silence wards collapsed with a sound like breaking glass. And somewhere in the tower above them, every remaining magical artifact began to sing in harmony with the power pouring out of her.
Through it all, she was dimly aware of Darian's hands on her shoulders, his voice in her mind, his magic intertwining with hers to provide an anchor point in the storm of power that threatened to tear her apart from the inside.
*Hold on,* his mental voice was calm, steady, utterly certain. *I've got you. Hold on.*
But the voices in her head were getting louder, more insistent, speaking truths she'd spent her entire adult life running from. The woman in the painting—Seraphina—hadn't been a stranger whose portrait she'd glimpsed in passing. She'd been...
*Mother.*
The word echoed through her mind with the finality of a death sentence, and Kira felt the last of her carefully constructed defenses crumble. She wasn't just a thief who'd gotten in over her head. She wasn't just a woman with inconvenient magical abilities who'd stumbled into an ancient binding.
She was the daughter of the Moon Witch, the last heir to a bloodline that had been systematically hunted to extinction, the inheritor of power that kingdoms had gone to war to control or destroy.
And if Moonwhisper knew, then the carefully neutral façade of this interrogation was about to become something much more dangerous.
The magical storm around her began to subside as Darian's steady influence helped her regain control, but the damage was done. The other Council members were staring at her with expressions ranging from fascination to outright fear. Moonwhisper wore the satisfied smile of someone whose suspicions had just been dramatically confirmed.
"Well," the Councillor said into the sudden quiet, her voice carrying the particular satisfaction of a hunter who'd finally cornered her quarry. "That was illuminating."
Kira raised her head, meeting the woman's pale eyes with as much dignity as she could muster. If her secret was out, then there was no point in pretending anymore. "What do you want?"
"What I want," Moonwhisper said, settling back into her chair as if the magical explosion had been nothing more than an interesting parlor trick, "is to understand exactly what happened here last night. What I want is to know how the last heir to a supposedly extinct bloodline ended up magically bound to one of the most powerful mages in the kingdom. And what I want is to determine whether you represent an opportunity or a threat to the stability of the realm."
"And if you decide I'm a threat?"
Moonwhisper's smile was sharp and entirely without warmth. "Let's hope, for everyone's sake, that it doesn't come to that."
The golden chain pulsed between Kira and Darian, and she felt his determination flowing through their connection—steady, implacable, utterly committed to whatever came next. Whatever Moonwhisper had planned, whatever the Council decided to do with the knowledge of her heritage, she wouldn't face it alone.
"Very well," Kira said, straightening her shoulders and channeling every ounce of dignity her mother's bloodline had ever possessed. "Ask your questions, Councillor. But understand that the answers might be more than you're prepared to handle."
Moonwhisper leaned forward, her eyes bright with anticipation. "My dear Miss Nightwhisper, I've been preparing for answers like yours my entire career. Now, let's discuss what you really know about the events that destroyed your family—and whether history is about to repeat itself."
The truth crystals might have been shattered, but Kira could feel the weight of absolute honesty settling over the room like a shroud. Whatever came next, there would be no more lies, no more careful half-truths, no more running from a heritage that had finally caught up with her.
The daughter of the Moon Witch had come home at last, and the Northern Kingdoms would never be the same.