The evening forest breeze was very cold, a clear sign that winter would soon be upon the realm faster than anyone could imagine.
However, Kyra could barely feel the cold or its meaning as she strolled, her feeling much more occupied by her thoughts. For two days, she and the group had been on the road and finally, they were at their destination: the Blessed Isle; or the forest opposite of the Isle to be precise. Lucian had told her that if she concentrated well enough while looking towards the waters, she would be able to slightly trace out the outline of the Wiccan tower from among the trees. But it was no secret to her that unless she found Nicolas' way onto the Isle, the tower would remain unreachable to her; and so would her life.
The Soul of magic stopped to listen to the faint foo
