Pricking her finger, the knife stung. Blood welled about the blade. Snapping her teeth together, Eswild hissed at the expected pain.

Sige stood at the threshold voices washing over her. Here war lay behind, but they’d found new battles. Those of boasts and clashing bodies. Sige scoffed. Her hand moved to her belt sliding down at the missing hilt.

Thewyn leaned against a wall. Her boot left a smeared hollow in the mud, and her left rested against the building. If Dwayde hadn’t known better, he’d called her relaxed.

Water dripped in a contrary rhythm as Fastolph knelt at the Word Shield. His lantern’s flame echoed loudly in the silent chamber and did little against the cavern’s absolute darkness. Not that Fastolph noticed. Master Ephers words blazed in his mind.

Azadtril slapped her hand over her nose as she emerged into the dome’s center. A putrid stench assaulted as did the patchwork sky, lolling boulders, and drifting water enchanted within. She supposed the pink clouds lacking any sunset hue could have been considered picturesque, the illusion vanished then moment they touched the oak.