The air-cav screamed through the night, a jagged blade of metal cutting through the freezing mist that clung to the peaks of the Kian border. Inside the cramped, dim cabin, the only light came from the rhythmic, tactical red of the instrument panel and the faint, persistent violet hum emanating from my own skin.
We were flying over the Forbidden Woods. From this height, the canopy looked like a sea of black fur, undulating in the wind. These weren't normal trees; they were ancient sentinels, fed for centuries on the leaking energy of the Prime Well. My mother's woods. My birthright.
Kasper sat across from me, his knees brushed against mine in the tight space. He was checking the action on his heavy-caliber handgun, but his eyes never stayed on the weapon for long. They kept drifting back to me—tracking the way the violet light pulsed in the hollow of my throat.
