Secrets of the Ancients

By David J. Boseke

In the Young Kingdoms, shadow attacks have become more frequent, and murder is committed in Mystivia for the first time in five hundred years. The Veil has been lifted, and a horde of Shadowbeasts has been unleashed upon the land, submerging its citizens in a new Dark Age. Only the wickedness of the Shadowmaster could be capable of such carnage.

In this thrilling sequel to The Keep of Shadows, heroes Sinjin Storm and Valera team up to fight the forceful power of the Shadowmaster. They unite their powers to save the land, but their alliance is much more than a quest on behalf of the peopleit is a quest to find their own destinies, as their true purposes unfold in a hidden plan set in motion two thousand years before their birth.

With the assistance of an unexpected company of outsiders, Storm and Valera must lead an assault on Dao Mines. Within the mines exists a secret plan of darkness, wrought by the Shadowmaster and his Shadow Realm, to extend the boundaries of their world, crushing goodness and light. The only hope for survival lies in the secrets of the Ancients, as Storm and Valera set forth on a journey that may prove more dangerous than either could have foreseen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 19, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450263245

David J. Boseke

David J. Boseke lives in Missouri with his wife Patty and nephew Riley. He is currently working on book two of the Usurper Trilogy, Secrets of the Ancients.

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prelude – Echoes Of The Shadowmaster

Part 1 – Mask Of Evil

Chapter 1 – The Ruins Of Faldain

Chapter 2 – Vital Information

Chapter 3 – Tirian

Chapter 4 – A Council Divided

Chapter 5 – Return To Mystiva

Chapter 6 – Merin Kai

Chapter 7 – A Secret Pact

Chapter 8 – A Candle In The Tower

Chapter 9 – Quest For The Past

Chapter 10 – Behind The Mask

Chapter 11 – Chancellor

Part 2 – Assault On Dao

Chapter 12 – Ambush

Chapter 13 – Ancient Fortress

Chapter 14 – Cat And Mouse

Chapter 15 – Outlander

Chapter 16 – Hidden Pass

Chapter 17 – Retaliation

Chapter 18 – Unification

Chapter 19 – Death Of Dragon’s Peak

Chapter 20 – The Slavemaster Of Dao

Chapter 21 – The End Of Tears

Part 3 – Shades

Of The Past

Chapter 22 – Dragon’s Revenge

Chapter 23 – Descent Into Darkness

Chapter 24 – The Battle For Landar

Chapter 25 – Hall Of Dreams

Chapter 26 – Chamber Of The Archon

Chapter 27 – Kingdom On The Shore

Chapter 28 – Alyssa

Chapter 29 – Gateway

Chapter 30 – Dragon’s Fury

Chapter 31 – Errand Of Mercy

Acknowledgments

As always, I am thankful to many people for their help and support in the creation of this book:

My wife Patty, for being the best first reader and critic anyone could ask for. In addition, for politely demanding more information on Galen, which inspired the story of his family in this book.

My good friend and proofreader, Theresa Clark, for her wisdom, constructive criticism and creative suggestions.

My brother-in-law, Jack Taylor, for doing an excellent job on the cover concept and art.

In addition, my publisher, for all of their support and guidance through this challenging and exciting project.

Prelude – Echoes Of The Shadowmaster

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Erimis indeed had influence over Malachor, and right now, he was planning to make his presence known to the whole of the Young Kingdoms. The people remaining in Chronin could feel a black cloud settling over their land as the wizard returned to his castle. They were little more than slaves as it was, but now they did not know what to do. The people of Chronin could not even escape because the border patrol watched their side as much as the other. Those caught trying to cross the border into Aljamin were arrested, taken to the castle courtyard, and beheaded for treason. Soon people accepted slavery to stay alive.

Malachor stood at a window in the highest tower at Castle Chronin, looking out over the ruined lands of his kingdom. The once thriving city at the gates of the castle was now no more than ruins and burned out husks of buildings. The citizens that once lived in the Kingdom City of Chronin, now served in the castle as servants and slaves. As they walked about the castle, their heads hung low and their eyes glazed over as if in a perpetual state of half-sleep. The slaves completed their assigned duties without aggression or rebellion because their spirit had been broken, and their hope lost.

The High Woods that bordered the remains of the Kingdom City slowly disappeared, stripped of age-old trees to build defenses and to fire the forges of Chronin, which were turning out weapons for the war day and night. What remained was a field full of stumps and mud. The grass and undergrowth, trampled into the ground by troop movements, and then turned into a sea of mud from the melting snows. It was a horrible sight to look upon, yet it warmed the heart of the Wizard-King to see what he had accomplished.

Malachor looked out the window with his one good eye, his face locked into a constant grimace because of the scarring left on his face when the Swords of Power exploded. He thought back to that moment often, trying to remember exactly what had happened, but all he could remember was a flash of light and then a great pain in his eyes and face. He also remembered that as suddenly as the pain had come upon him, it dissipated just as a dark calm washed over him. All he could remember after that was waking up in his room in the castle, but since he woke up that day, he had been hearing a voice in his mind, reassuring him and encouraging his plans.

Malachor knew who that voice belonged to, and he was afraid. Accused of doing evil constantly, he had never really thought of himself as evil. The accusations of his own brother had him driven from his home and finally even out of town. Now he felt the stirring of something dark and foreboding in his mind, whispering to him of things he had not even dreamed. It whispered of the Ancients and their hidden secrets, and of the plans of Aljamin to invade in the spring. Malachor was overwhelmed and as a result, he sat in his throne room in a daze for nearly a week before his head began to clear and he was ready to act.

Erimis had taken hold of Malachor’s mind. Now things would begin to change, he thought as the Shadowmaster looked out of the eye of Malachor. A pair of Torrian guards positioned at the door of the throne room began to look at each other very nervously as Malachor slowly raised his head for the first time in nearly a week. Upon waking from his dream-state, Malachor began to scream silently deep within his consciousness, watching in horror as another commanded his body. The intruder forced his very soul deep within his own body.

The guards watched as the figure of Malachor slowly rose from the gilded throne positioned at the top of a short rounded stair, spreading out across the base of the platform. He raised his blazing red eye to them and said; Bring me Turon the lizard-man and his captain. Bring them here now!

The startled guards jumped in unison, and then hurrying off to do their master’s bidding before his anger turned on them. Malachor smiled as he watched them scurry away, wondering if they had any clue of who they served. Erimis was now in control, but he knew that no matter what he did, the Young Kingdoms would only see Malachor, the evil wizard. Then, when the world least expected it, Erimis would rain their demise down upon them. The Dark Realm would merge with the Realm of Light and finally the Age of Shadows would return.

Master Malachor, the Serpent Warriors you requested. A guard boomed from the archway to the right of the throne. Turon and a tall Serpent Warrior in full armor entered the tower room and proceeded to the base of a small throne. It stood on a platform of stone, with three stairs leading to a serious looking Malachor standing over them.

Hello Turon, I was thinking that I had not seen you for over a week and it was about time that I had, Malachor smiled as he descended the stairs to the tiled floor of the throne room.

Thank you Highness, it is good to see you as well. I am glad to see that you are recovered from your battle at Shadowkeep, Turon replied, grimacing at the horrible scar on Malachor’s face, and his ruined eye. These wounds would never truly heal.

Yes, I am recovered the best that I can anyway. But I was thinking that if your captain here had done the job that you had assigned to him, I would not have been recovering at all, Malachor said with a smile and as politely as possible, but both of the Serpent Warriors could tell that the mood of this visit had just changed.

Master, Sinjin Storm displayed powers that none of us could have expected. He killed over fifty of my Serpent Warriors and somehow closed the rift that you had opened. After that we could not get to you, Turon almost pleaded with Malachor for the first time in his life. Malachor had never even been displeased with him before, but now as Turon watched his friend, he feared him.

Malachor walked past them quietly, smiling to himself at the fear that he now saw in their faces. That is true; you lost all of the warriors that you brought and even some that never set foot in Shadowkeep, except for one. The wizard stopped in front of Captain Korok. How did you survive Captain?

Massster, I barely sssurvived, but I retreated knowing that you would want a full report of this man Ssstorm’s capabilitiesss, Korok stammered.

I see, and if I had died at Shadowkeep, who would you have reported to? Malachor’s one good eye locked with Korok’s long reptilian pupils, waiting for a reply.

Massster I... Korok began, but the fire that burned in the wizard’s eye silenced him.

You failed me Korok, and you left me to be butchered! Malachor screamed at him, but then all at once he calmed and said very seriously; I cannot tolerate failure in my leaders. He turned his back on him and slowly walked back up the steps to the throne.

Malachor turned and sat on the throne, noticing that Korok was visibly shaking now. I have to make an example of him Turon. You do understand, don’t you? Korok suddenly lifted from the ground, rising into the air where he hung suspended and helpless. Korok’s eyes grew wide as he could feel his body twisting by unseen hands. The armor stretched and buckled around the screaming lizard-man until finally, his spine snapped with an audible pop and his screams silenced. Black blood dripped from the suspended corpse for another minute, until he dropped to the floor in a heap.

Turon stood with his scaled jaw open, unable to believe what had happened. In all the time that he had known Malachor, he had never witnessed such an act of cruelty and violence from his friend. Now he looked at the wizard differently, knowing that he was not the man that he had met in the Shadow Realm as a boy.

Are you shocked Turon? Are you horrified? On the other hand, maybe you are angry. Would you like to kill me now Turon? Malachor asked as he rose and quickly descended the stairs, looking Turon in the eye.

Master, the day I found you in the Shadow Realm I kept you safe, and I would do the same today. I thought you knew that already, Turon said with a grim smile.

Thank you old friend, but I assure you that your loyalty was never in question here. I know that you do not agree with what happened to Korok, but as you said, you were not with me in the dungeons of Shadowkeep. If you had been there, you would understand how dangerous Sinjin Storm really is. He is very powerful, but his magic is unstable; he could destroy this whole continent without even knowing he had done it.

Master, if he is truly that powerful, how will we stop him? Turon asked seeing something of the man he had known.

We will trap him like an animal first. Malachor gauged Turon’s reaction with a smile, I have arranged for him to come to us. In fact he will actually attack Dao Mines in an effort to save the man he called father for so many years, Benjamin Lorren. There at Dao, we will take him.

A bold plan Master, I will look forward to seeing it played out, Turon replied, wondering how Malachor could have arranged all of this.

Ah but first we must give the soldiers of Aljamin something to do, to ensure that they do not send troops with Storm when he comes. Turon, I want you to assemble the Council of Twelve here in the throne room in one hour. It is time to raise the Veil. Erimis smiled behind the eye of Malachor, seeing the shock and dismay on the face of the lizard-man. It was time to begin the descent into the age of darkness and flood the Young Kingdoms with Shadowbeasts. The soldiers of the Elves and the Humans will be in chaos and unable to help Sinjin Storm. Malachor had only a fraction of the power needed to raise the Veil between the two realms, but Erimis had done it before, and it was time once again.

Part 1 – Mask Of Evil

Chapter 1 – The Ruins Of Faldain

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The land had recovered some from the chaos spreading through the Young Kingdoms just before the battle at Shadowkeep, but now after only a week, that recovery seemed as if it would be short-lived. The war had paused unexplainably, and the Torrians retreated to the lands of Chronin for no apparent reason. The troops massed at Akaar only two short weeks ago, could have leveled the city if they had wanted to, but instead they chose to pull back in their hour of victory. One thing that Jaxom realized immediately as he watched the endless hordes of Torrian soldiers retreating into the woods, was that this war was somehow tied to the ongoing battle between Sinjin Storm Torvaal, the surviving son of King Erlick of Chronin, and Jason Malachor Torvaal, the wizard who murdered Storm’s father and stole his kingdom. Their personal battle seemed to affect the destiny of the entire Young Kingdoms.

The one thing that had remained stable since the Battle of Shadowkeep was the weather, which could only be a blessing from the Lord of Light. The snow had melted off in a day and a crisp fall breeze had replaced the biting winter wind that howled through the streets of Akaar only a short time before. With harvest for this season halved, still there would be no shortage of food this winter because the storehouses were full of grain and there were plenty of cattle and swine to go around. The sudden change in weather had caused hardships, but with the seasons returning to normal, anticipation for the coming spring was growing and hope blossomed in the Young Kingdoms once again.

The air was still frigid and icy above the clouds where Storm and Valera flew on the wings of the huge red and gold Dragon named Galen. In fact, he was the Lord of the Dragons and a Changeling as well, as Storm found out after their first meeting. Galen actually killed a Hell Hound that was about to attack Storm’s grandfather, Sorrell. This huge Dragon melted into another form and became a man named Galen Faldain. Now he was a Dragon once more, and he was taking Storm to the highlands of Faldain, Galen’s homeland, where Storm wanted to stay for a couple of days to try to get some perspective on all that had happened so far.

Storm knew that he needed to plan his next move and he knew that he had to go into the land of Chronin, a full hundred leagues behind enemy lines, and all the way to Dao Mines. Once there, he hoped to find some artifact of the Ancients to bring back to Mystiva. However, if he were able to find these artifacts, would they even be what he needed?

These questions, as well as Ben’s condition, weighed heavily on Storm’s mind as he felt the icy cold air slam into his face. Storm had thought that after the destruction of Shadowkeep and the Ghostblade, his mind would be more at ease and less worrisome, but he had been wrong. The entire Young Kingdoms, as well as his own thoughts, seemed to echo with the return of the Shadowmaster. Most people did not even know what had transpired in the dungeon of Shadowkeep that day, but somehow they knew that a dark cloud was descending over the lands. No one could tell what was happening; only that something had changed once again.

Storm I’m freezing! Can I ask Galen to take us down for a few minutes, Valera said in her mental voice to Storm as easily as she had talked to the Dragon.

Of course, I think I am turning blue myself. Storm gripped the large scales running down Galen’s back and waiting for the inevitable dive toward the ground, knowing that Galen had heard the request as well.

A moment later Galen pulled his wings up straight, holding them to catch the air, and bringing them to a complete stop in midair. Hanging motionless just below the clouds, they could see the tops of the trees far below. The moment seemed to last forever, hanging in the air as if suspended from above on invisible strings. Unexpectedly Galen started the dive toward the ground, gaining speed with each second that went by, but then he suddenly pulled up short and angled back up toward the clouds.

I am sorry my friends, but I do not think we should return to the ground just yet. Look down, Galen said in a deep booming mental voice to them both.

Storm and Valera looked down in unison and they saw what Galen was referring to; the woods were crawling with Torrian troops moving through the trees and away from Akaar. From this high up above them, they resembled ants moving through grass. They had crossed the Pine River just after taking a low dive over the ruins of Shadowkeep, which now was nothing more than a smoking hole in the middle of a circle of burned out woods.

After crossing the river, they banked left and headed due north which coincidentally was the same direction that the Torrians were retreating. The question was, would they go all the way through the Faldain Highlands and toward Grimmer Tor, or would they turn east toward Chronin. Unfortunately, it would take time to see what they would do. The troops were acting erratically; almost running through the woods. There did not seem to be any leadership, instead the troops seemed to be in a panic as if they were fleeing from something.

Rylar Village came into view in the distance to their left, but there was not much left. Rylar had once been a thriving city of nomads located in the heart of the North Woods. It was far enough from any borders to be free domain; which simply put, means that they do not fall under the rule of any Kingdom. They were a self-sufficient and self-governing people that loved life, and now they were gone, probably destroyed for sport by the Torrians on their march to Akaar. These people were not a threat to anyone and killing them was nothing less than a malicious act of cowardice. The more Storm saw of this war, the more he wanted to kill Malachor instead of bringing him to trial. Corruption would not rule his path though, as his predecessor Abba had allowed.

Galen slowed his flight considerably by the time they passed by Rylar, and now Storm and Valera both were much more comfortable with the ride. After flying north for another few minutes, the troops began to angle to the east toward Chronin as Storm had thought they would. They would cross the Pine River just below Shadow Lake. They would then take the Tora Pass, a wide plain between the Alanar Peaks and the Crystal Mountains, and from there they would be back in the Kingdom of Chronin.

Galen continued north, leaving the Torrians behind, and flying over the North Woods toward Alanar Peaks. Storm had requested him to take them to a place, quiet and serene, where he could think for as long as he needed to. Storm had no idea where this place was, but he trusted Galen to get him there. Besides, he did not really care where they were going. He just wanted to get away for a day or two, and then he would be in a better frame of mind to continue on this path, chosen for him before he was born. This is something that he had a lot of trouble accepting. For as long as he could remember, he had been very adamant about his own destiny and direction in life, but suddenly he finds out that his life is already laid out for him and he has no choice in the matter.

Valera coming along was unexpected, but he had to admit that he liked the idea of getting to know his sister, someone that he had not seen since they were babes before the fall of Chronin. He would have to make time to do his thinking. But then again, displaced during the war in the same way that Storm had, Valera might be able to help him get some perspective. She seemed to have a way of looking at things that took him by surprise, and to think of things that he had not even considered.

He already knew what lay before him and he had accepted that, his main challenge now was maintaining his own identity in the process. His first concern was to find the artifact of the Ancients that Masterhealer Anya had spoken of, and with that, she hoped to find a cure for the curse laid on his foster father Ben. The only place Storm knew of was Dao Mines, and then only because Malachor had mentioned that he had found something of the Ancients buried there. It was almost surely a trap. Why else would he give that information away if not to lure him there, a place within the borders of Chronin and less than a hundred leagues to Castle Chronin where the entire Torrian army was probably regrouping?

The information given was obviously a trap, but Storm could think of no other alternatives? There was no other place anywhere in the Young Kingdoms where a remnant of the Ancients remained, almost as if they had never existed. Once they did exist, but now only the legends remained. However, the legends from all across the land told the same story, giving evidence to the legends. They must have left something behind; it was just a matter of finding it and getting it back to Mystiva. That would be the trick if Malachor were there to stop him.

Storm returned from his thoughts as Valera tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to their right where the expanse of Shadow Lake appeared at the base of Alanar Peaks in the distance. The sight was majestic from this altitude, and knowing that no one else alive had ever seen this sight before just made the moment that much more magical. The tops of the Peaks faded into a puffy white cloudbank, hidden from sight as Galen skimmed just below the clouds to give a better view to his passengers.

Soon the highlands of Faldain would be sliding into their view over the horizon, and strangely enough, Storm was looking forward to seeing this old and forgotten land. He had never had reason to venture into the North Woods, and certainly not all the way to the Torrian Spikes, a mountain range lining the border of Grimmer Tor, but now he was able to see the size of the North Woods as a nearly endless expanse of treetops reaching for the light of the Sun. A sea of reds and yellows, showing the abundance of late season colors, and dotted with the green of an occasional pine or spruce tree.

Storm was literally overwhelmed at the changes that had occurred in such a short time, not only to him, but also to the land that he had known since childhood. It was hard to take, but at the same time, he knew that this war was inevitable. From the time that Malachor seized Chronin from Erlick, the dark wizard had been planning this, and short of Storm’s complete surrender, he could think of nothing that would stop this besides an all out war with Chronin and Grimmer Tor.

The Highlands of Faldain began to appear, as the flat treetops of the North Woods became rolling hills. The hills then became rocky and the trees gave way to grasses and brush. The trees that remained were strictly Pine and Spruce, the kind of tree that can thrive in the colder rockier landscape surrounding the snow-capped peaks of the Faldain Mountains. Majestic in their height and smooth sides, the twin peaks of the Faldain Mountains climbed high into the clouds, and the valley that sank between them guided the Faldain River through them where it continued south toward the Peaks of Alanar.

Storm was breathless with the scene as he looked on for miles from this altitude and he allowed his mind to clear. The questions and concerns that haunted him for so long actually disappeared for a few moments. The clouds whipped by overhead so close that he imagined he could reach out and grab hold of them on their way by, but suddenly Galen began to spiral around the base of the west peak, gliding gracefully toward the ground.

Ruins could be seen on the ground just below them and growing in size as they continued their downward spiral. The mountains of Faldain towered over them as they settled to the ground near the ruins of Faldain Castle, Galen’s old home. The castle itself had been nestled against the side of the mountain, with the main entrance facing down the slopes of the rocky hills known as the Highlands. Looking directly at the castle with the west peak of the Faldain Mountains rising up beyond the main gates, the intricately carved entrance to the main palace gave the appearance that the mountain was just another high tower and a part of the castle. Storm would have liked to see this place when the kingdom of Faldain had been at the peak of its glory and this castle whole and filled with people.

Storm and Valera jumped down from Galen’s back. The thoughts and dreams of a time long gone were already fading and the stark and lonely cold of reality set in. He watched Valera marvel at the ruins as he had only a moment before and he envied her for it; she had no prophecy to fulfill and Malachor had not targeted her as he had Storm. After depriving Malachor of the Ghostblade, he will want revenge. Then there is the Shadowmaster, a side effect of the destruction of the Swords of Power that no one had even considered.

Storm did exactly as instructed, and now things were worse. There was no mistaking that he had to destroy the Ghostblade; the visions from the medallion were very plain, and the shade of Arden Marjor had given him explicit instructions. Even Sorrell had encouraged him to destroy the dark blade. He could think of no way to have done things differently.

Storm, this place must have been amazing! She turned toward him full of excitement and wonder, but then she saw his face, and noticed the haunted look immediately. What is it Storm? What’s wrong?

It’s a long story Valera, Storm replied, shaking his head.

Then I guess you had better start at the beginning, Valera said, moving in front of him and forcing him to look at her. Her long brown hair was wind-blown, falling around her shoulders. Her lean frame showed the muscles of a hard life growing up, but her face was as warm as her personality. Her eyes were deep and intelligent, but at this moment, they also demanded answers.

Good! You two need to talk, but before you do, I must take my leave and return home for the night. I will be back early tomorrow, Galen whispered to their minds, and then he leapt into the air, disappearing silently over the treetops.

Well it looks as if we are on our own tonight sis, but before we sit down to talk; I want to get a fire going.

Good idea, I am still cold from our trip here, Valera replied as she looked at her brother, wondering about his life before he knew about their real father. She admired his tall muscular frame, and his lean handsome face, framed by long snow-white hair. Not bad little brother, she thought with a smile, but she could not help wondering about the hair.

A short time later, they had a warm fire going and a stack of firewood that would last more than one night. They sat on logs warming their hands and finally Storm began to talk to her. He began with the search for Sorrell and the battle in Tanis, and continuing with the battle for Akaar and the assassination attempt on Ben. This led him to their trip to Mystiva. Once he started he could not stop, and by the time he had finished, Valera sat speechless.

At first, she did not know what to say, then suddenly she said, I don’t know about you but I need a drink. She produced a bottle of Antarin Brandy from her pack. Pulling the cork, she tilted her head back and took a long drink. Storm looked at her for a moment and then they both burst into laughter.

Now it’s your turn. From the way you handle Antarin Brandy, I’m guessing that you have a story to tell as well, Storm replied as Valera passed him the bottle. He listened to her story, and had to admit that his jaw dropped when he heard that she ran the local Thieves Guild in Korla, yet no matter what he did or thought about his mind always came back to Malachor. He could not help wondering what the wizard was planning right now, and what influence the Shadowmaster had over him.

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The ruins of Castle Faldain towered over Storm and Valera’s campsite in the darkness. Their fire was now a glowing bed of embers in the pre-dawn hour, and both of them fast asleep as silent figures moved in the bushes just beyond their camp. Watched and surrounded in the darkness, the circle closed in on their sleeping forms.

Storm and Valera opened their eyes at almost the same time. No sound awakened them; it was their senses alone that alerted them. They were both aware of the movement in the bushes now, although whoever approached was very good. Storm turned on his wizard sight. He cocked one eye open and scanned the area immediately in front of him. Three men were visible through the bushes with the help of his magic, and Storm felt relief that they were men, considering the creatures he had seen recently.

Come out Antimon, Valera said forcefully as she rose to a sitting position. You are good, but I could hear you dragging that peg leg behind you in my sleep.

Valera! Is that you? a voice called from the darkness.

Come out Antimon, and bring that band of brigands with you, she said smiling now and giving Storm the impression that they were old friends.

You know these men Valera? Storm asked rolling to his feet now that the danger seemed to be past.

I told you that I should come along little brother, Valera replied with a smile.

Yes Valera, you are wiser, and most definitely older, Storm said with a grin, but a moment later, he received a cuff in the ear.

What? Valera said mockingly and held up her hand in a threatening manner again.

You win sis, I concede.

As well you should, she said, watching the haggard-looking men emerge from the trees in the growing twilight. Her smile quickly faded as she saw that they appeared to have been on the road for months, and as one walked by her, she realized that they smelled it as well.

Valera, you are a sight for these tired old eyes, Antimon Kellor said with a smile.

Antimon, the last time we met was back in Aljamin, and now you are creeping around in the dark thinking to ambush me. Times sure have changed haven’t they?

Valera please, I would never think to ambush you, you know that. We saw two travelers, and from a distance you looked like a couple making camp, Antimon explained as he brushed off an ornamental piece of the castle that had broken from the walls, then he sat down, holding the wooden leg out in front of him.

You hear that Storm, now we are a couple, Valera said as she playfully poked him in the ribs.

"Storm, do you mean Sinjin Storm? Well then, this is