Luke had felt it. He had felt the tip of a sword press against the skin on his upper back. He did not know when he gave up on life, when he gave up on his people, his kingdom. All his life he had fought for his beliefs, he had even been brave enough to accept that magic was not malignant, that he was a part of this world that he had grown up hating. It was a hard fact, but it was true. Luke had even grown accustomed to the thought that his father and Stephen had died. Yet, despite all this, Luke wished for death. He allowed the thought of eternal sleep to seduce him, he allowed the thought of being with Rose again beckon him to the world beyond. Luke had recognized Julian instantly. He had recruited Julian as a child, he had trained the child personally. And now here he was, with a sword i
