The man I saw near the Greenleaf Inn was a humanborn, so he most likely didn’t make the explosive. The metal, though bent and charred, bore marks of intricate mythborn writing, and even though it wasn’t impossible for us to learn their arts, the craft’s perfection suggested the terrorist had had someone else make the bomb for him.
As I leaned over my worktable and pulled the light charm closer, I couldn’t shake the feeling of the situation being out of place. Why would any mythborn make such a device for a humanborn? We might not be at war anymore, but I couldn’t conjure anyone foolish enough to give the former enemy means to sow destruction. And since I was at it… Why would a humanborn bomb a place of his own kind first? Were the two attacks even related?
The feeling that I was missing
