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.

Darkness reigned beyond the windows when the revelries finally stilled. Veth sat on the Black Throne, watching. A few men slumped over tables, too worn to seek their beds. Still Veth sat as a statue watching, separate from the merriment as always.

After century and a half Kosmos’ ineptitude still shocked me. In unison, the three stared dumbfoundedly at him. He twitched what constituted his head, equally dumbfounded at our shock.

Adralith groaned glancing at the mist covering the normally clear mirror. Someone demanded his presence. He glanced at his tart. It was perfect. Freshly baked, vibrantly red, fragrant, and the crust. Venna had outdone herself, and he’d missed the season the last three year’s.

“Something’s wrong with this thing.” Lola bellowed.

Nerezza let out an exasperated breath and straightening from the cauldron. “What now?”