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Copyright© 2011 and 2019 by R. F. Long. Rowan wakes to pain. He feels as though hot iron is being pressed against his flesh. There is a pain in his shoulder joints; an agony so hot and perfect that for one delirious moment he feels as though wings have been stitched to his back. Indarin took her hand, wrapping it more firmly about the hilt. The healing magic began to flood through her again, like warm honey, golden light flowing beneath her skin.You are, you know. The key to facing the vision is to know who you are, and what you want. And now all that is clear to you. Who are you? Aubrey, he says, making it sound as if this is a real treat. In truth he has been ducking calls from both his agent and his book editor for months. Hes tried to stay optimistic – to cling to the belief that something will turn up. Hes never seen a newspaper with Nothing Going On as a front page splash. There’s always a story to be found somewhere. He just hasn’t unearthed it yet. His policy to date has been to keep his new book’s subject matter a closely guarded secret. At present, and with six weeks to go, he’d dearly love to be let in on it. Listen closely. Tell me what you hear. Samara?* * * Good work, Calvin. Any luck on tracing her phone? Gabriel asked. If youre reading my book, youll know a little ab out me, he says, closing one eye to mirror her expression. Youll know what I do. You have another destiny, Shanith , she told him, her voice firm once more. And I will not allow you to cast that aside for a—a woman. What you saw at the Vision Rock— The coroners office was busy, and Marcus regretted not calling ahead. He didnt like wasting time. The secretary looked up, recognized him, and immediately picked up her phone to dial a number. Mr. Dade is here to see you, sir. Replacing the receiver, she waved at the door marked Coroner. “You can go in. Indarin hunkered down in front of him and offered him a strip of meat.Here, you should eat. Another tent, in the Holters section of the camp, as plain and unadorned as the others, but the figures gathered outside identified it as Dorias. Her little girl, Jerryl sat at the door, clinging to a cloth doll Leithen had made for her. Inside, Doria knelt on the floor of the narrow tent, next to a low cot. Theyd covered Devyn’s face with a sheet, but his mother still held his hand. She wept silently, tears silvering her face. When Jeren entered, Doria looked up. Grief, that was all. Dreadful, numbing grief. All he could do was pray. Pray and fight. Gabriel didnt answer, but he did let off the pressure on the gas pedal. .