42
Bard
“Bard!”
He jumped as Firian’s enormous form invaded his dream, sudden as light shining in his eyes.
“Kiria!” Firian said before fading to a picture version of himself.
The jolt had been too sudden. Bard was awake, heartbeat thudding quick and heavy. He pried his eyes open, though there was little to see in the darkness, just sketched outlines of bedroll, pile of clothes, sack with supplies, and the lightened sliver of the tent flap. The smell of stale bread still lingered on his fingers, and heavy drops still splattered on the fabric of his tent. He couldn’t have been asleep long.
Kiria. The name returned to him after floating free for a second. He gripped it tightly in his mind, repeating it to himself as he rolled out of bed. Kiria, Kiria. Something was wrong.
He pulled on
