Chapter Twenty-One
Searon stared ahead, his crimson cape fluttering in the wind. Guerettos lay just ahead of them, and he watched as smoke rose from the village. They’d arrived too late.
Sh’on stepped next to him, covering his eyes from the sun to look toward the village. “They’re here.”
“We’re too late,” Searon said.
Sh’on placed his hand on Searon’s shoulder. “Never give up hope.”
Searon turned away from the village and spied a black tent. He tilted his head as he studied it. “I wonder if that’s Arria’s tent …”
“If she is with them, I’d guarantee it.”
“I’m torn, Sh’on. I want to rush into the village and fight as many of the Ikchani as I can to save Andron and his people … but another part of me, a selfish part of me, wants nothing more than to run into that tent, see if Anaela is
