Chapter I

The full moon shined brightly on the grounds of the ancient stone castle where the young couple lived. All of the rolling hills on the tiny isle were considered to shine pure green, yet the grounds of Foraoise Castle always seemed to gleam just a little brighter. A gentle breeze tumbled newly-fallen leaves from a crumbly-walled garden filled with Vinia Mords, Cantum Shrubs, Moly, and Enchanting Elms across the well-trimmed lawn and into the dark forest beyond. Outlining the acreage were large, cleanly-cut hedges that towered over all of the surrounding foliage and rustled slightly as its small inhabitants began to settle in for the night. An occasional fish leapt from a nearby loch, temporarily shattering its clear, pristine surface. The dense wood, for which the castle was named centuries before, wound tightly about the land’s perimetre. Generally, even at this hour, the trees were dotted with occasional glimpse of squirrels or birds scampering about, but tonight was abnormally dark and still. Far off in the distance, an animal howled ferociously at the moon.







Annaliese sat at an enormous window in the northern turret of the Castle, rocking slowly in a centuries-old chair and softly humming to herself. Even in the dim light, her bright red hair stood out like wildfire in the small damp room. Her perfect porcelain skin was like freshly fallen snow glistening in the moonlight and her rosy cheeks, dotted with freckles, dimpled as she smiled at a gentle sigh that came from a tiny bed behind her.







She slowly glanced backwards at the cold, dark room that served as a bedroom for her baby daughter. The walls were decorated with caterpillars and butterflies in an array of colours. The cold stone floor was scattered with toys and large, vibrant rugs. The small bed stood directly behind the window, pressed against the opposite wall, and adorned with a slightly torn canopy and rose-coloured bedding.







She sighed deeply and gazed back through the enormous sheet of glass before her. Reflected in the shining surface were her brilliant green eyes, red with exhaustion and outlined in dark circles. Far beyond her own reflection, however, was something else.







An enormous, black, rain cloud was slowly edging its way toward the castle. A concealed lightning bolt would momentarily light up the giant mass, but was gone as quickly as it had come.







“Quite a storm coming,” whispered a voice.







Annaliese jumped and turned quickly, finding only her husband, barely visible in the dark room and smiling meekly.







Seamus Taite was a tall, very thin man with short, perfectly curly, brown hair. His face, as stunningly white as his wife’s, was studded with facial hair, though he was generally well-shaven. Like Annaliese, his viciously blue eyes were dark and bruised.







Neither one of the Taites had slept well in weeks. There were far more important things to be dealt with.







“Is she sleeping yet?” asked Seamus, glancing at the little bed, a worried look imprinted on his pale face.







“She’s just fallen,” answered Annaliese, looking back through the window at the approaching storm. “Any news?”







“They’re nowhere to be found,” he answered, his eyes drifting far from his wife. “They were last spotted on the Isle of Vestimedia. We’ve searched it thoroughly, but there is no sign of them. I’ve just received word from Atilius and Lepidius that we must move quickly. They’ll be here near midnight to—“ But he was cut short in his debriefing as one small, wet diamond glided from Annaliese’s piercing eyes and gently slid down her cheek before falling and shattering into a million pieces on the ice cold floor.







Seamus knelt down next to the chair and took his wife’s dainty hand in his.







“Don’t cry, my love. I promise you that everything will be fine. Everyone from here to The Isles has been warned of their arrival and we will stop at nothing to ensure that every one of us remains safe and sound. I promise you. I promise.”







Annaliese smiled down at her husband with grateful eyes that hid her true agitation. She knew that all of her loved ones were in danger and were fighting for their lives as well as hers. Yet, there was something inside of her that knew it would be of no use. There was something that tore savagely at her subconscious and screamed that their struggles would prove to be meaningless…







“If you two lovebirds are through,” came an abrupt voice, “we really ought to get going!”







Without bothering to remove his gaze from Annaliese, Seamus absentmindedly flicked his unoccupied hand in the direction of the intruder. A long cord materialized and flung itself toward the trespasser’s feet. Quickly winding its way around his ankles, the rope pulled tight and the man fell to the ground with a soft thud.







The mess of blankets in the tiny bed stirred slightly and settled again. Seamus smiled, put a finger to his lips and shushed the man struggling against the bindings around his legs.







“That was childish,” he grumbled, a small sneer creeping onto his face and his eyes shifting colour from a soft magenta to a piercing orange. “Honestly though, Seamus, we’ve really got to get moving.”







Seamus looked at the man with friendly eyes. He had been through such adventures with this man that he was reluctant to call him anything other than his brother. The two had grown up together, along with Annaliese, in the vast forests outside the tiny village of Aliquam. They had been friends since the day they were born and had stayed as such ever since. As young children, the three would embark on frivolous adventures and stir up quite a bit of trouble for themselves. No matter what the three did, they seemed to always be in some sort of predicament. Yet, they always stuck together, even after Seamus and Annaliese began to fall in love. Antony was never considered a third wheel and he never felt as such. It was almost as if their friendship were destiny; something that could not be changed or averted; something that would forever remain.







“I know, I know,” Seamus sighed, returning to his feet. He gave another flick of his wrist and the constricting twine fell limply to the stone floor. “We’ve got everything together,” he continued, “we’ve just got to figure out precisely where it is we are suppose to go…”







“Hasn’t Atilius told you anything?” asked the man, drawing himself up from the floor. “I swear, if you told the man his legs were gone, he’d forget and hobble around like a right proper git…”







“The man is three-hundred and twelve years old, Antony,” giggled Annaliese.







“That’s no excuse. I mean, look at little Seamus, here,” he retorted, ruffling the man’s curly hair.







“Those cords can easily be conjured again, Antony,” warned Seamus, an evil grin slithering onto his lips.







“No need, old boy. We all know who’d win,” he chuckled, giving him a wink and a thump on the back. “Anyway, Atilius has arranged for all of you to meet on the smallest of The Isles. Bellthiom, Railentry, and the twins will all meet us there around midnight. Which is why,” he continued as he began to meander about the room, inspecting shelves and useless knickknacks as his eyes flicked from orange to silver, “we have got to get moving, Taite. They’ll be expecting us within the hour. Each one of you is to move at different times as to not give them any hint to your location.”







“What about Atilius and Lepidius? Are they already there?” questioned Annaliese.







“Not just yet,” Antony replied, picking up a stainless steel sculpture of a bride and groom lying on one of the filthy shelves. “They said that they’d be along shortly after we all arrived. They said that they had some ‘loose ends’ to tie up.”







“What do you mean by that?” asked Seamus.







“I mean just precisely that,” said Antony, placing the figurine back onto the wooden ledge and strolled back toward the two. “When I went to Travernia this morning, that is exactly what they told me. I am, for once, just as lost as you are, mate.”







“Very funny,” retorted Seamus. “I wonder what—“







But the rest of his thought was washed out by a huge crack of thunder that echoed long after it had first occurred. The pictures on the walls rattled and the shelf adornments clanked together loudly. The wedding statue teetered quickly on the dusty ledge before tipping over and crashing to the cold stone floor where it broke into thousands of tiny slivers.







“My Lord, this storm is going to be a brutal one,” whispered Seamus as Annaliese withdrew to check on the bundle of cloth stirring restlessly in the tiny bed behind them. “Dreadful traveling weather, eh, Antony? Antony?”







Antony, however, was starring determinedly out the window at the approaching storm cloud. His eyes continually flashed back and forth between a deep purple and a light pink.







“No,” he whispered, “it can’t be.”







“What, Antony? It isn’t…”







It was.







Another bolt of lightning struck so close to the window, that it shattered the glass with amazing force, sending the two men flying backwards before smashing them into the far wall. Annaliese was thrown to the floor at the foot of the bed, slashing her forehead on the wooden base.







“Elijah!” she screamed. “Seamus! Antony! Elijah!”







A sinister laugh reverberated through the castle, and was soon accompanied by a harsh voice.







“Oh, don’ choo worry, love. ‘e’ll be dead b’fore long anyway,” it cackled, as a group of men appeared just inside the crushed glass window.







Hardly a second passed before Antony’s sharp voice broke the stunned silence.







“Caius!” he screamed, his eyes flashing to a deep and dangerous black. “You bloody bastard! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave here now—“







“If you know wha’s good fo’ you,” Caius answered, his gleeful voice turning to ice, “you’ll shut the ‘ell up, Dispar! We’re not ‘ere for you, bu’ it’ll give me no dissatisfaction to kill you, as well-“







“You know just as well that I will slaughter you right here, right now!” snapped Antony, as he lunged toward the group, only to be thwarted by Seamus grabbing him by the ankle.







“Antony,” he spoke in barely more than a whisper, “please. They aren’t here for you and I won’t let you get yourself killed out of anger. Or on my behalf. Please. Take Geneva and go find Elijah. Make sure that they are safe. We’ll hold them off until Atilius and Lepidius arrive. It’s nearly midnight. We’ll hold them off as long as we can—“







“I’m not leaving you, Seamus!” he retorted. “We three have gotten through this before and we’ll do it again! I’m not leaving my two best mates alone to fight without me—“







“We’ll handle it, Antony. Please. I’m begging you. Take the children and hide them. Hide yourself. Don’t let them find you.”







Antony gazed back at Seamus. Behind him, Annaliese was snatching up their tiny daughter, wrapping her in a mess of blankets and scrambling toward them.







“Antony, I implore you,” she whispered. “Take Geneva and Elijah and run. Take them to The Isles, if you can. Protect them, please. We’ll handle them.”







Hardly realising what he was doing, Antony help out his arms as Annaliese placed the bundle on top of them, his eyes flicking back and forth between red and royal blue.







“I—I—“ he stuttered, completely lost for words.







“Come on then,” said Seamus, a devilish grin crawling onto his lips again. “For your best mates, Dispar.”







A sheepish smile appeared on Antony’s face as he slowly returned to his feet, “I will be back,” he sneered, his eye colour settling on a red-orange. “Can’t let you two have all the fun in taking a few of these heads.” With a small wink and a quick snap of his fingers, he had disappeared.







Caius’s eerie laugh filled the room again as the Taites returned to their feet.







“Beautiful,” he laughed, clapping his hands loudly. “Truly an act o’ chivalry on Dispar’s part. S’really too bad that ‘is act’ll go unrewarded. Enchantmen’s ‘ave already been placed, Taite, ‘n ‘e can’t leave the castle. Valiant effort, but choo’ve lost.” He took one step backwards toward the group and shouted, “Search the place, gents! Bring ‘em all ‘free back ‘ere alive! Go!”







Without hesitation, the men disappeared in a thin layer of mist. Seamus quickly shot one hand toward the foggy spot. A thin, orange bolt exploded from his fingertips and vanished into the haze. Almost at once, a blaring whistle echoed in the corridors far below the nursery.







“Now it’ll be no surprise where they are, Caius. They won’t find Antony before he has time to escape. You, my friend, are the one who’s lost.”







“Don’ waste chor’ breaf’, Taite. Dispar can’t leave the grounds’an I ‘ave the upmos’ faith in them lads. They’ll find ‘im an’ chor li’l brats. They’ll bring ‘em back ‘ere to die an’ you’ll follow suit. I fear, sir, ‘dat it’s indeed you who’s lost.”







Caius took another taunting step forward and began to raise his right arm, but Annaliese was there first, sending a brilliant green ball of light flying directly toward the man’s chest. Without a second thought, Caius swept the orb aside, crashing it into the wall to his right as sparks flew out in all directions, almost instantaneously catching bits of loose clothing and open books on fire.







Annaliese collapsed to the floor and clutch the sides of her head. Seamus rushed to her side and, as he had before, knelt down in front of her, taking her hand in his.







“Annaliese,” he whispered anxiously. “My love, what’s happened?”







She did not answer for several, eternal seconds and then moaned softly.







“Seamus, something is wrong,” she said. “They rest… they aren’t on The Isles… the twins… Pipre.. Elleta… they… they are…”







“Dead, my dear. I believe dat’s the word you’re lookin’ for,” said Caius with a slight snort, as he surveyed the now growing flames.







“You bloody coward!” she screamed and stood to face him again.







Suddenly, a screeching wail filled the air and a thin mist dispersed through the room. The two Taites stood back to back, stunned by the change of scenery. Then, as quickly as it had come, the fog disappeared and a new, hooded, black figure had appeared just inside the shattered glass window.







“Evening, Caius,” he said in an icy, yet velvety voice. His bony hands went to his head and slowly let the hood fall, revealing his face, “Taites.”







His dark hair lay perfectly atop his head, flawlessly complementing his sharply-figured face. His ashen skin rivaled that of Annaliese and his golden eyes gleamed in the glooming darkness that had completely enveloped the castle.







Both Seamus and Annaliese stood straight up and stared at the man, anticipating at any moment that he might strike against the two. But he did not. The man simply gazed back, appearing to be deep in thought as he scrutinized the young couple before him. The world was lingering on the moment, waiting for the first curse to be implemented. The fire had begun to fall, reaching no more material, and smoked wildly as it gasped for fuel. The heavy smoke threatened to choke all present, but none dared to even blink, for they knew it may very well be the last thing they did. It was at that moment that Seamus realised their dire situation. Although he was not directly familiar with the man, he knew what he was capable of and what he had already committed. He thought of his beautiful wife standing next to him. At any moment, she may be forced to fight for her life as well as their children and Antony.







Antony. His brave and loyal friend for as long as he could remember. The three had always been a tight-knit group, traveling, exploring, and growing up together. Although destiny had truly linked Annaliese with him, Antony was just as close, never feeling lonely or ostracised, feeling complete as part of the tiny mess that he would never fit in to. The mess of the last six of their kind.







Now, the last six had become the last two. Little Pipre and her audacious sister, Elleta. Leviticus and Articus, rambunctious and bold. His four young cousins, all dead. Unable to aid them or to be aided. Their fragile lives had been lost, their innocent, young blood spilled. By the man who stood before him, calmly waiting for the tiny sliver of time crucial to his success. This man. This ruthless man who cared for absolutely nothing and no one, apart from his own power.







Power he thought. Power is the key to it all. That one desire that can’t be quenched. Without power there is no reason for any of this to happen. His ultimate downfall, he scoffed, will be his power.







The room had grown completely quiet. Even the crackle of the fire had ceased and had left the air barren from all sound. Silence.







Abnormal silence.







The whistles had stopped.







“Caius,” came the velvety voice, “would you be so kind as to fetch Dispar?”







“It would be my pleasure,” he answered, his voice eerily echoing throughout the tower for the first time since their new guest had arrived. With one last evil grin and a flick of his wrist, he disappeared.







As soon as he had vanished, a tiny, thin, green bolt shot from Annaliese’s fingers toward the door. But another blue streak crashed into the dark wood first, slamming it closed and creating a thick wall of blue and green flames that barricaded it from both sides.







I’m afraid not, my dear,” came the voice. “Can’t have any interferences from a worried mate,” he looked around the scattered nursery “or parent, now can we?”







He didn’t know thought Seamus. He didn’t know about the children. He doesn’t know anything about them.







Annaliese seemed to realise this at the same time he did, because she reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He looked toward her out of the corner of his eye, and saw her smile slightly and take a tiny breath of relief.







“Ah, young love,” he said finally taking a step toward the two and proceeding to stroll about the room as Antony had minutes before. “So naïve and innocent. So fragile, yet so unbreakable. So unbreakable, yet,” he glanced down at the shattered wedding figurine at his feet, “so easily severed.”







Suddenly, an enormous boom rocked the castle and, once again, threw the Taites into the far wall’s awaiting grasp. The sound echoed through every floor and far beyond the grounds, scattering nesting birds for miles. Rocks and debris tumbled from the walls and rained down on the occupants below. The new man stood calmly as he had before and waited for the trembling that seemed to come from the centre of the earth itself to stop. Although he appeared composed, the man’s golden eyes danced with anticipation and confusion. There was no reason for there to be such an explosion now. This was to be done with the least bit of disruption as possible, and, so far, Caius had completely disregarded that agreement. Unless, of course, it was the work of Dispar. A last minute struggle to protect himself and the children from their impending capture, perhaps? Somehow alerting anyone near of their grave situation, of his friends impending deaths?







The trembling gradually died away and the cloud of dust began to dissipate as the man step forward into the spot in which they had previously stood and gazed at their crumpled bodies lying in heaps near the stone wall. Their only movements were tiny flutters of their diaphragms.







Anger and frustration flared in his chest. He was foolish to believe that they could be killed so easily. He knew better than to underestimate their power. Had it not been this power that had nearly cost him his life? The power of the legendary Gailins….







He began to walk toward the Taites again, raising his arm, forming the words that could be the only end to the final two, until the forbidding fire extinguished and Caius and his men stepped through the unscorched door, half shoving, half carrying a very bloody Antony into the room.







“’Ere you are, Sethirus,” sneered Caius. “One bloody bastard fo’ you.”







The men threw Antony to the floor, and he immediately tried to regain his footing. Sethirus stared at the struggling man and slowly walked toward him. With very little effort, he forced Antony back down and addressed Caius without removing his gaze from the man before him.







“What happened? Did we not agree to complete secrecy? To avoid just this type of situation?”







“Sir, it wasn’t us!” came a small voice from behind the group. A tiny child, no more than seventeen years, with tidy blonde hair and dull green eyes appeared from within the crowd, addressing his superior with a newfound disgust.







“It was Dispar who gave us away and blew the place to bits! How can you honestly expect us to capture the world’s most powerful family without creating a bit of ruckus? Can’t you contemplate—“







His words were cut off as a ring of blue formed around his throat, cutting off his air and leaving him gasping for breath. He fell to his knees beside Antony, retching until his face matched the colour of the ring and he slumped to the floor, unconscious.







“Learn your place, brat!” whispered Sethirus, as he clicked his fingers, removing the jinx from the boy’s neck.







An eerie silence filled the room as the man’s golden eyes flashed between the unconscious boy, the hopelessly struggling Antony, and the mess of frightened men before him. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke again.







“Is it true, then?”







“Yes, sir,” said Caius. “Dispar hid the li’l creatures an’ as soon as we came ‘round, ‘e tried ta’ blow us all away. Cast some sorta’ diversionary charm an’ ‘den tried ta’ jus’ explode ‘alf our numbers. Los’ six men, sir.”







“And the children?”







Caius paused, took a deep breath, and then answered.







“Died in the explosion, sir. No way fo’ them ta’ escape ‘dat blast.”







The silence filled the room again, but was short-lived this time, as Sethirus swooped down upon Antony, clamping his icy hand around his throat. He hoisted him high into the air and lit is opposite fingertips on fire, as Antony clawed at his unrelinquishing grasp.







“You cost me that power, Dispar. You’ve been treading in dangerous waters for far too long. You’ve been unnecessarily woven into this journey and now it is going to cost you a life—“







“It’s a life I will gratefully pay,” coughed Antony, his eyes now a menacing green. “The boy was right; you don’t stand a chance against the most powerful family to ever live. Even beyond death, their souls will live on for longer than you could ever imagine. Of course, what would you know of souls—“







Sethirus’s grip tightened, completely cutting off Antony’s voice.







“Who needs a soul when you have all of the power of Ambrosia?” he said with wicked grin.







Suddenly, a jet a purple light shot from across the room and smashed into Sethirus’s back, causing him to drop Antony, smashing his head on the cold stone floor before falling to his knees. His wrists and arms began to intertwine themselves, snapping his bones.







He simply laughed.







“You really thought that that would work, girl?” he said. “Using my own curse against me?” He stood without difficulty and muttered the words “Reserium.” His wrists immediately unbound themselves and he raised his hands as the shattered bones began to mend. Finally, he turned and faced Annaliese who had returned to her feet and was swaying slightly as a trickle of blood ran down her cheek.







“You stupid, stupid girl,” he laughed as he strolled toward her, backing her up until she reached the shattered window on the opposite side of the room. “So valiant, so cunning, risking everything that you have. Everything that you’ve ever known. All for nothing. To end up with nothing but death,” he continued stopping centimetres from her ear, “so, so, stupid.”







“Monium!” cried Seamus, who had regained consciousness and now stood opposite Sethirus and his wife with his arm outstretched. A vibrant green bolt shot from his fingertips and out the crushed glass window, narrowly avoiding the two’s heads, where it exploded into an enormous cloud of light in the never-ending sky of darkness.







“No,” whispered Sethirus as he gazed at the brilliant glow, his voice gradually increasing in decibels. “No, no, no, no, NO!” he screamed. “End of the line, Taite! You both. Die. Now.”







With that, he quickly wrapped his arm around Annaliese’s slender neck and moved backwards until his heels were dangling from the shattered tower window. Annaliese struggled with all of her might, to escape his grip, but she knew it was no use. The amulets were hidden and of no use to them now. She could only hope that Geneva and Elijah would receive them.







She hadn’t been awake for more than a few minutes.







“Annaliese!” cried Seamus, lunging toward her before identically being snatched around the throat by Caius.







“Ah, ah, ah,” he cooed cynically. “You’ll ‘ave your chance, boyo.”







“Now, perhaps, you will understand, Taite. You have lost. Your power, your rule, is mine. After tonight, everyone will truly know who the most powerful sorcerer to ever live is. The name of the Gailins will go up in flames. Both of you will die. Just like your little children. That’s right, they’re dead. Gone. Just like the others. Just like you will be. Starting,” he laughed, tightening his grip around Annaliese, “with her.”







With one last, desperate attempt at freedom, Annaliese flung herself backwards, forcing Sethirus to let go, lest he fall with her. She stumbled on the edge of the window and balanced for a few moments, before the curse was uttered and she jolted backwards, falling to the darkened earth below.







“No!” screamed Seamus, struggling with all of his might against the man binding him to the spot. “Annaliese!” He writhed and shouted with everything he had, but Caius held strong.







“’S’to late, lad,” cackled Caius, finally throwing him the ground. “Time’s up. Now, it’s your turn.”







Seamus gazed down at the castle floor. He had lost everything. His love, his beautiful wife. His best friend. His children. All of it. Gone. Washed out. Everything that he had ever loved had vanished before him. To think, minutes before, (had it been that short amount of time) success and happiness had been in his reach. Now it was all gone. Shattered. Like the window in which his true love had fallen from. Fallen to her death.







Suddenly, a muffled groan echoed in the room. Antony stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering, trying to erase the specks of black clouding his vision. Without clearly understanding what was going one, he spoke in a cheerful, yet strained voice, “You’ve really had a go at these handsome gits, now haven’t you, Taite.”







Immediately, two more men scooped Antony up from the floor and stood him in place in front of Seamus and Sethirus.







“Eternal friendship,” laughed Sethirus. “As easily severed as young love.”







“Seamus,” whispered Antony, “I’m sorry. Geneva. Elijah.”















“You’ve done all that you could, Antony. It’s not your fault.” He gave one breathy laugh, “I’ll miss you, mate.”







“Taite—“







“Emuria!” screamed Sethirus, as an enormous cloud of golden light overflowed the tower. The last thing Antony saw was his best friend’s lifeless body crumble to the floor. The luminosity filled the room and an enormous voice boomed through the entire countryside.







“Sethirus!”







The arms binding his together relinquished and the world returned to black.







***







“Dispar? Come on, lad, wake up.”







Antony awoke to the calming voice of Atilius that bounced about in his head.







“There he is. Come on, then.”







His skull was pounding and his limbs were sore and bruised. Despite his immense pain, he willed his appendages to move and commanded his eyes to open.







“There’s a good lad. Alright, then?”







A dull, grey light flooded his sight from the departing storm cloud and a strong arm pushed him to a sitting position.







The room looked just as he had left it. The walls were crumbled and smashed, holes littering the well-constructed stones. Scorched books and toys lay strewn about the room and smoked faintly, though the flames had completely diminished. Bits of glass accompanied with a decent amount of blood sprinkled the cold flooring, particularly around the spot in which he lay. The air was murky with dust and smoke and the metallic smell permeated his nostrils with amazing force.







It’s done, he thought. They’re gone. I let them slip for only a moment, and now they’re gone. Forever.







“By God, Lepidius, the lad’s gone deaf, I swear it!”







Antony glared up at the man kneeling before him, cursing at him under his breath. Although he was confused and angry, the sight of this ancient man was somewhat comforting to him. His familiar chest-length beard and hair was as black as ebony, deeply contrasting with his ivory skin. His gleaming green eyes beamed down on him, and his thin lips, only just visible beneath his whiskers, curled into a slight smile.







“You alright, Antony?”







For a moment, he did not answer. His friends. His mates for as long as he could remember. Gone. Lying in crumpled mounds somewhere. They had trusted him with the one task that was most important to them, and he had let them down. Tiny, delicate Geneva and wildly daring, little Elijah. Gone.







Gone.







“I failed, Atilius. They’re dead, and it’s all my fault,” he whispered, his eyes shifting to a brilliant gold and welling with tears.







“No, lad, none of that. There’s only one man responsible for all of this,” he answered, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. “You did all that you could. There’s no use brooding over something that you couldn’t control.”







“Ur, Atilius,” called Lepidius, “would you come here for a moment?”







Without removing his gaze from Antony, the man stood to join his brother.







Atilius’s words bounced around in Antony’s mind again.







“There’s only one man responsible.”







That man. The one who had killed his best friends and their children.







“You did all that you could.”







Seamus had told him the same thing. And yet, he couldn’t accept it. He had enough control to protect Geneva and Elijah, and yet, he still failed. They were beyond his grasp. In his eyes, he was just as much to blame as Sethirus.







Sethirus.







Even the mere thought of his name made his blood boil. He would avenge his friends. Sethirus’s ruled, he decided, would be short lived.







Suddenly, a green glow caught his eye from underneath a torn tapestry close by him. Although his body still ached and was on fire with pain, he reached over to the torn bit of cloth and withdrew a small, wooden box from beneath it. The glow was almost bright enough to blind his still recuperating eyes, but he stared on anyway. He had seen this box before. Somewhere, sometime, someone had shown it to him; had wished for him to have it; to do something with it; something… someone…







Annaliese.







He remembered.







With a cautious hand, he lifted the frail lid and withdrew a tiny note from within, absorbing every word.







Several floors below, a baby cried out.