Chapter Forty-TwoElzor walked at a brisk pace, black cloak pulled tight around him. He kept his head down, grateful that the canopy of leaves above his head gave him at least partial shelter from the rain. He moved with stealth learned from years of training, each step deliberate and measured. To his right, through the thick clutch of reesa trees, his and Maxtar's men fought their Daradian enemies tooth and nail.
Had his faith in Arantha not been beaten out of him as a child, he might have prayed for victory. At the very least, he would beseech the divine god to allow his sister to survive. Fulfilling his quest without Elzaria at his side would render his accomplishment hollow and meaningless.
They shared the same blood; and yet, for twenty years, whatever force guided them to this fate
