FATAL PASSAGE

POV: Ivory Wells

As I descended further into Callum's stronghold, the smoke-filled air stung my eyes and caused wateriness. Around me screamed the symphony of battle: steel smashing on steel, the terrible sound of rending flesh.

But I drove it all to the margins, my senses sharpened with laser-like attention toward one single goal: locating my daughter Darcy. After so many years of believing her missing, I at last got proof she existed, held hostage someplace in this horrible land.

Low, I passed a knot of Callum's guards interacting with Hardin's infiltration team. A few tried to turn and interact with me, but I was already swirling like a whirling tornado of flashing blades and kicked up smoke. They dropped silently and then rejoined the dusty haze.

Part of me understood the need for every life lived and every hurt caused. But it was a little, always dwindling voice against the tidal urgency pushing me ahead. Once Darcy was in my arms once more, I could grieve the price of my deeds.