The darkness bubbled and hissed, until it took another shape - not that of a vicious beast, but a person made of shadows. The creature had no defining features outside of red burning eyes, but despite their passing resemblance it felt completely different from the Shadow.
"When did you find out?" Its voice was cold and inhuman.
"I suspected something was off from the moment you offered to receive the guests. Harold wasn’t a bad man, but he also never went out of his way to help people - when they told me you ’wanted’ to free Nickolas I became certain you weren’t him."
Leon gripped his sword tighter.
"Now tell me what the hell you are, and what do you want before I kill you!"
"Why should I tell you? I’ll just kill you all and report back to master, he’ll come up with an excuse for your death."
"No need to ask that thing." Calen interjected. "It’s a blood mimic, or at least a variation of it."
The shadow’s head snapped to him, and the burning embers servings as its eyes lit up with fury.
"No one asked you, false saviour!" It snarled.
Calen ignored the beast completely and continued talking.
"I understand some things now, but I’ll explain after we kill it - we can’t let this thing escape."
"Escape? ESCAPE!?" The shadow figure looked pissed off. "I’M GOING TO SLAUGHTER ALL OF YOU AND BRONG YOUR HEADS BACK-"
Before the monster could finish the sentence two yellow arms hit it’s legs, swiftly covering him in the extremely sticky mucus.
"I need someone hold him, so that he doesn’t trash around while I kill him." Calen stated.
Leon snapped his fingers.
"Greg, you know what to do."
The giant nodded, and in the blink of an eye he was holding the shadow in a chokehold.
"HOW DARE YOU PUT YOUR FILTHY HAND-"
The rant was cut off by a sword going through through his chest.
"YOU CAN’T KILL ME WITH SUCH PRIMITIVE TECHNIQUES YOU FOOL!"
"I know." Calen said, and channelled the flame inside of the blade.
Instead of burning the creature to a crisp, the fire lit up its insides making them visible from the outside.
In the place where a human would have a liver hung a small black orb, pulsating with strange energy that spread through the entire body of the creature.
The shadow started thrashing an yelling, but it meant nothing in the face of Greg’s iron grip.
Ignoring the ruckus caused by the monster, Calen cut the ball of darknes with his flaming sword, causing it to instantly shatter.
Second later the creature’s body simply evaporated, leaving nothing behind.
"That should be enough." Calen sheathed his sword.
"What the hell was that?" Leon frowned. "It sounded and talked so much like..."
"Arthur? Yeah I know."
"You never met him, how?"
"I just know how blood mimics work - come on, let’s find a safe location and I’ll explain everything."
"If I’m not mistaken, the temple should be nearby." Alfred said. "It’s about as safe as it can get."
"So, explain." Leon stared at Calen intensively.
"A regular blood mimic is a creature conjured from the blood of the summoner and the person it’s supposed to mimic. It’s not necessary to kill the person whom you want to replicate, but in most cases it’s simply convinient."
He looked at the altar burning happily with the sacred flame and continued.
"The mimic will inherit the personality and part of memories belonging to its summoner, but they are a separate being, and don’t have a deeper connection with the conjurer."
"How did Arthur made one? He never bothered to learn a single household spell, let alone attempt something as sophisticated as summoning."
"His sword - it’s a blade of crimson contracts, or at least some twisted version of it. Weapons like that allow to perform a myriad of blood related rituals and spells even if the wielder knows nothing about magic."
"I thought you said there’s no blood magic." Alfred gave an accusatory look to Isara.
"Because there isn’t - there’s just magic, blood can be just used as a part of some spells, it’s not a separate thing." Isara rolled her eyes.
"And what do you call a magic where you use blood? Blood magic."
"Alfred please don’t argue about magic with a prospective archmage." Leon stopped him. "What you told us, does it mean that ALL the other members of the council could be mimics?"
"No, only one mimic can exist at a time. There are some mind control spells that involve blood though."
"All of them involve ingesting blood of the one who’s supposed to be in control - can you recall any instance where he made you drink or eat something?"
"No I..." Leon’s eyes widened. "Actually there was a thing like that! During the dinner after he accused Nickolas of treason, he brought out a very old bottle of wine, claiming that he found it in some abandoned cellar. I didn’t drink it, as I don’t drink alcohol, which would explain why I’m not under his control."
"Makes sense, but as far as I’m concerned this doesn’t really absolve them of all the fault." Alfred said. "They were completely in control when they arrested master, and accepted the bogus evidence out of their own free will."
"But if all of them are under his control, why did they refuse to execute Nickolas? Shouldn’t they immediately agree to all his orders?"
"It’s because of the difference in willpower." Calen explained. "Arthur is barely a knight with a magic sword, whereas all the members of the round table are warriors who lived for centuries during an apocalypse, and have cultivated a lot of aura. He can order them to do things, but they won’t agree to those the vehemently oppose."
"Is it possible to free them? They would probably realise how much they fucked up if they understood what happened."
"Unfortunately the only way to do that is to kill the person in control."
"So we’re back to square one..."