20
The trees smelled of life, and Koshmarnyk inhaled their scent while he crossed the clearing. The building’s dark shape stood out against the green, and its dark windows promised nightmares within, old and new ones alike. Pictures of the women imprisoned within and their deaths still haunted him. No secret was worth the lives of innocents, and he’d have rather faced Gildya’s pursuit than seen people killed to keep his presence hidden. Possibilities ran through his head, but the voice of reason always reminded him that the decision belonged to someone else. Neither Veelk nor Kamira were killers by nature, and some nights the arcanist awoke gasping, her black eyes shining with magic as she reached out in desperation, half conscious, still enveloped in her nightmares. She rarely spoke abou
