unseeing.
Half a thought and Dorian had her
incinerated. No one came to inquire after the
stench that rose from her ashes. The black
stain that lingered beneath them.
Valg. Perhaps a ticket for him into Morath,
and yet he found himself staring at that dark
stain on the half-thawed earth.
He let go of Damaris, the blade reluctantly
quieting.
He’d find his way into Morath. Once he
mastered the shifting.
The spider and all her kind could burn in
hell.
Dorian’s heart was still racing when he found
himself an hour later lying in a tent not even
tall enough to stand in, on one of two bedrolls.
Manon entered the tent just as he toed off
his boots and hauled the heavy wool blankets