The Storm Griffon and the cursed tower didn’t use mind links, let alone talk. Jorl sat in the middle of a diagnostic magic circle as he circulated his Upyr blood throughout his body and then suppressed it again.
The Storm Griffon studied not only the changes in his life force, but also those in his mind. Jorl felt something gnawing at his flesh and whispering in his ear whenever he transformed into an Upyr.
It was a silent, slow battle in the background of the melody of his life force, but a battle to the death nonetheless.
The Black Throne helped Jorl in his endeavor, using all the skills and spells he had created over the millennia to understand his new pet project’s condition and, if possible, reverse its effects.
"I’m ready when you are." The cursed tower said as he recalled the mystical energy of his enchantments and put it to better use.
Jorl nodded in acknowledgment and went on with his experiments for a while longer. He wanted to come to his own conclusions before talking with the Thone.
’He’s much older and more knowledgeable than I am. I don’t want to be swayed by his opinion and observe my findings through the lens of his theory. I’m my own Griffon, and the Black Throne is no friend of mine.
’The last thing I need is to become dependent on him. If I want to avoid just switching one master for another, I must keep my mind sharp and use the Black Throne like I use Orpal.
’I’ll learn everything I can from them and get rid of them both the moment there’s nothing more I can take.’
"I’m done as well." Jorl reverted to his human form and gave one last look at his Life Sculpture.
The artifact resembled a black pool ball and recorded every detail of his life force. Jorl had used the Life Sculpture before accepting the first drop of Orpal’s blood to study the changes it would induce in him and undo them if necessary.
"You first, please."
"You were right, my disciple." The cursed throne’s lights flickered in what the Storm Griffon had learned to recognize as a nod. "Your Upyr condition is no blessing. It’s a treacherous sickness that spreads when you least expect it.
"Every time you transform, the Vurdalak blood inside your body alters your life force and tries to make the change permanent. The little bastard is not trying to face your Griffon nature head-on like a man, but to slowly push it out like a coward.
"You are a hybrid as your Dead King promised, but he lied to you when he said that your condition was stable. Given time, the Vurdalak blood will swallow your Griffon side if you are not careful.
"Your condition is similar to that of a thrall. Your Vurdalak side is the blood core, and your Griffon side is your mana core. The blood core’s goal is to replace the mana core and turn you into a specific undead, no matter your race of origin.
"The only difference is that while a thrall’s blood core disappears unless it’s constantly replenished, your Vurdalak side is a self-sufficient malignant parasite. The disgusting critter prolongs its existence even without receiving more of Orpal’s blood by feeding off your life force.
"I’m afraid you are right." Jorl pondered. "I would trust Orpal enough to buy his bullshit, and the hunger for power that would plague my mind would make me easy to manipulate.
"Once I take the prism, I will become nothing more than spare parts for him. A meat suit to wear and put his crazy plans into action without him having to set foot on the battlefield and risk his life."
"There is one more silver lining to this situation." The cursed tower said. "Once you warn your allies and those you want to make your allies of the threat the Upyr blood poses, you’ll gain their trust.
"Also, you’ll give them a very powerful motivation to betray Orpal and join your cause. None of those you brought here struck me as an altruistic fool. The moment they realize they have been tricked into drinking poison, they’ll do anything to ensure their own survival."
"Indeed, but I’d rather let them stew for a while." Jorl’s eyes narrowed. "It will give them the time to become full Upyrs, and the more they trust the Dead King, the more outraged they will be from his deception.
"I need them to be desperate and angry enough to accept me as their savior and put their lives in my hands without asking too many questions."
"That’s why I chose you, apprentice." The Black Throne laughed with his rasping, creaking voice. "You know what you want and how to get it. Your talent does match your ambition, and you never overreach out of stupid pride."
"Thanks." Jorl said, not letting those sweet words of praise let him forget that he was nothing but a plaything to the cursed object. "I also need your help with another matter."

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