How long had it been? Days? Weeks?
As a wizard whose powers pertained to time and space, Xene found his lack of awareness almost humorous. Had his father known what he would become, he might have considered staying a while.
Once respected and celebrated as an inimitable warrior, Xene was now… nothing but a self-exiled, alive yet unliving man, prisoner to his own desolation and shame. A runaway.
Incessant barking made him part the dusty curtains shielding him from the world.
He saw the furred culprit digging a hole outside the window – a tavi, and then his gaze shifted to the thin, silver crescent in the sky. He reached up to feel the matching ornament piercing his ear.
The new month had begun; he was probably on the move now.
Death was awfully skilled at trading, Xene thought. It practically stole away your loved ones and left revelations in their stead. Revelations that you might have been awaiting, revelations that you’d rather not have heard, or revelations that… were larger than any one person, family, clan – revelations that could change the world, or two.
Krymenos was in danger. His land, his people, everything was at stake. Their only hope – five little runts all the way across the portal.
The Chosen. And he had to find them.