I couldn't tear my eyes away from the staff.
I'd seen that weapon a million times.
Felt it pressed against my throat as I pounded the floor with my fist in defeat.
Felt the sting on my body as it struck me again and again.
I'd seen it, and had not once recognized it.
Until now.
Now I saw it and I Remembered.
It was mine.
Remembered its warmth in my hands.
The designs Akaros' long fingers now caressed, Michael had drawn with the tip of his blade.
So much made sense now.
Why the staff never broke.
Why Akaros never let me hold it. Or even touch it.
And why my fingers practically burned with the desire to claim it.
I'd always thought I longed for the staff because it represented Akaros' power over me. If I could only get it, wrest it from him in battle, I'd prove to him - and to
