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Autumn 5922

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As Koriani scryers fail to trace the released prisoner, Prime Selidie rages across her defaced floor at Whitehold, ‘Our arcane vision is thwarted, you say? Then we’ll seize the True Sect’s faith as our instrument in Tysan. Send a warning dream to the Light’s High Examiner. Spur him with the notion his calling has come, that past evil wakens from dormancy. Show that a minion of Darkness moves abroad for his priests to destroy!’

Her healer’s work finished by midafternoon, the enchantress Elaira repacks her satchel for a speedy departure: since the Fellowship Sorcerers have disbarred themselves from defending her best beloved, and given the news of the Biedar tribe’s active meddling, she resolves to risk the journey to Sanpashir to measure their wild-card stake in his destiny herself…

‘How can either party withstand the brute course? Worse, Elaira’s just made herself a naked target!’ Kharadmon rails, lately made aware that the Koriathain twist Asandir’s oath to exploit the Light’s zealot religion; from Althain Tower, Sethvir returns a dismal silence, too distraught to weigh the bad odds: which enemy faction will trace Arithon first, if not strike him down in the vulnerable gap, before he rediscovers his natural talent…?