“Jamal! Hey! Wake up!” a voice pierced the groggy fog of pain and confusion.
Jamal slowly opened his eyes. He was on the floor. His head hurt with every single beat of his pulse. Eventually, his eyes focused on the person kneeling beside him. Tarik.
“What the hell happened? Where’s Nev? The staff guy downstairs is dead. The rooms up here are a wreck.”
“They took him,” Jamal mumbled.
“Who took him?”
“Dunno. Four guys, wearing dark clothes, they had magic.” Jamal closed his eyes again, trying to breathe evenly against the pain, trying to think more clearly.
“This whole place stinks of dark magic.”
Jamal opened his eyes and looked at the unfamiliar speaker. He didn’t recognize the small older man who wasn’t dressed like any of the other soldiers or military staff that had flooded into
