Bendalia stopped in front of the uneven row of brightly painted boxes. Box 11 was only mostly closed. Not even enough to hide the presence of a letter shoved where none belonged. Scowling she glanced down the cross streets. If Diel and Kedilalia thought they’d joke at her expense . . . She harrumphed annoyed.

She snatched the letter from the box and ripped it open impatiently.

Elaweth, preeminent enchantress of Veth, had never bowed before Afanad hoard. She was a bulwark between her people’s light and their waves of chaos. A role she had been born too, but one she had accepted without hesitation. At least until today. Now she questioned. Late.

Wind. Fire. Water. Closing her eyes, Eowini let her chant wash through her splinter of the ephemeral entities she represented. Calm. Her breath slowed as she centered.