Fifty seasons had passed since the end of The Sunder. Memories of the long civil war twisted my dreams into horrid shapes, until I only slept a few hours a night. The memories were part of me, though my old body and mind refused to accept them.
A terrible sense of unease took hold of her, and she assumed the worst had happened down below.
They were too late.
The Prince furrowed his brow, “Come out, whoever you are! Who hides in the shadows of trees?”
An arrow whistled through the air…
The temple desperately needed coin from the brother to the King. The monks baked a special bread for his pleasure, but instead of magic bread, the temple only had a sorry story of how a little girl ran off with the most expensive bread in the entire kingdom.