Shadowy tendrils spread from Vlad's aura, moving like living smoke through the void. They drifted toward the Viking ships, slipping through hulls and armor, then into the very Soul Dimensions of the survivors.
Each tendril pierced the spiritual core of every Legendary Viking and then moved on, diving through tens of thousands of others. The sensation was deeply uncomfortable but not harmful. The shadows did not linger, nor did they taint. Once the inspection was complete, they left each mind as silently as they came and drifted toward the next group.
From an objective standpoint, this was an exhausting and unnecessary task. These refugees, broken and half-starved, posed little value to the kingdom, and there was no real gain in bringing them in. But Vlad was not heartless.
As long as he could help them, he would. Still, the safety of his people would always come first.
He could not, and would not, allow an infiltrator like Barbatos to slip through unnoticed.
