A glint lay on the table offering the slightest of illumination. Enough to see the outline of the woman sitting across the table from me, but not her expression. The man at the window was less. I couldn’t even swear to his name being Zyn. She might’ve said that once too quickly for certainty.

Raffin Fane gripped the latch to my chambers closed door as if that contact spared him contamination. I glowered and he wrenched his hand free as if burned. I turned my attention back to my hearth.

I scowled when the red eyes appeared in the bush. Thankfully Cole’s had his back to it. I grabbed his arm, when he started to turn, perhaps catching my gaze flick from him to the eyes. His words trailed off into silence and I was chagrined to realize I’d lost the trail of what he’d been saying as well.

Two thoughts entered my mind as I sat stooped over my low table. First, my cushion had become far too thin offering no protection from the stone floor’s imperfections (there were many). Second, I remained unenthusiastic about unannounced visits.

The wood creaked under her feet despite of Darle’s best attempt for stealth yet. “Typical,” Father said. His voice drifted unreal from the parlor. Wood scraped over stone and a small flame sprung to life, quickly followed by the brighter candlelight.

The screams had stilled but firelight danced a bright counterpoint to Aere’s heart. The destruction ran along the logs joined where the house’s stone corners met. Before the structure three men watched the thatch roof collapsed. At their center, silhouetted by flames, Flanagan lazily held his torch. The other two were strangers but stank of the village.

Breaking a god was no easy task, but Enryn had dedicated his lifetime to it. Well technically, his some odd great-grandfather Gylas had dedicated each generation’s eldest. Whether they wanted it or not.

The dew-covered grass chilled Rikia’s feet as she slipped to the ground, a chilling counterpoint to the hand still clasping her own. Catching herself she felt the hand slip away as she straightened herself in her family’s farmyard.

By blessing I’d presided over the crux of a thousand-year prophecy. By damnation I watch it crumble with a word.

Wind scrapped his skin as Rothsem surged down the mountainside. Wild laughter sprang from within muffling the cries behind for him to halt. Fools, he’d never halt! No, he’d passed the void bars, traversed the scalding divide, and scaled the frostbit walls. Now he rode the cascading mountainside to freedom. Nothing could hold him back!