A screech tore through the town of Farinwood. Rain surged up in his bed as the reverberations shivered over his skin. The echoes of his dream- a fair girl crying out her name, ‘Mitrill, my name is Mitrill’- caused momentary confusion, and then he knew where and when he was. Night in Farinwood.
Here it was a child on the hunt. And not alone.
And then, like crystal shattering in the ensuing dead silence, a woman sobbing as if her heart had been ripped from her body.
Aaru, how could the men on the streets be expected to stop this? One was father to that screeching child. One was husband to the woman trapped in hopeless grief.
Anger was then heat and resolve. Rain left his bed, snatched his cloak up for warmth and doused the smoking lamp on the small table under the window. A moment later he snapped his fingers for the tiny flame that danced upon his palm. A sorcerer’s trick. And, on this world that despised even a sunset as too much magic, a noose slung over a branch. He needed to be ever careful; vigilantism was alive and well on Valaris and continually on the prowl for magic-users, a mindset that would lead to confrontation. Infinity would win by default- men would kill each other while she laughed from the sidelines.
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