Too a few, those blessed with power, Mililath Tower blazed in the heart of the night, consumed by a magical storm raging within. However, even those a child’s stone throw away slumbered in blissful ignorance through the layer upon layer of wards sealing structure. Kellsie didn’t share either the grace or the power and stood at the storm’s heart.

I jerked when the hand rested on my shoulder. I swung my head to the side, peering at Ebony. Her brows were drawn down, forming a slight crease in her forehead. How long had I been ignoring her? Worse. I had no idea what she had asked.

The sunset made the sky a bloody mess as I stood on the battlements. I waited alone, but for what I couldn’t guess. Red had stained my death and trapped my sight still.

The spatter of seeds sounded harmonized with Ariade’s steps and chanting as she paced the garden, rebounding against the garden’s high walls. The ground shifted beneath her, a behemoth welcoming its own. A welcome disturbed by a disharmonious step upon the wall.

Adrel stalked through the alley, leaping over murky, chilly puddles. In the scant light, eyes tracked her movement from the fish pile as she set her paw on the broken crate. They watched but did not advance. Good. Adrel settled in to wait.

Rerith paused on the city’s wall. Through the deluge he could glimpse the city vastness. The scale was grander than anything in Miralor. His stomach sank. How were they to find the mark before dawn?

Kedoredia brushed her hair over her shoulder. Of course, he’d broken another window entering. “Don’t step on the broken glass.” Kedoredia admonished. “I don’t need the child finding it’s dust.” The spriggan had been his. The creature had been too docile. A distraction. A successful distraction.

Kedoredia leaned over the pool stretching her hand to touch the waters. The barrier to secure the cottage would be completed by mixing in the berry blood clinging to her finger. She could feel the chill of the water lap her finger when the sound of breaking glass stopped her.

Jyth allowed a ripple to travel through the feathers over his back as he alighted curiously on the stone arch. Cocking his head, he turned an eye toward the girl below. Her black dress and hair rippled in waves defined by tears in the cloth or clumped strands. Rippled, even though the air was dead.