In the end, she did the only thing she could think of. She asked for help. Lowering some of her mental barriers, she sent out streams of anguish, trying hard to visualize the area where she was. She begged for a brave soul to come to her aid. This was not a project for a timid, hurting spirit. She needed a warrior, someone who would help her fight, someone who could find a way to help her send word to her friends.

Please, please. My name is Aurora, and I am in danger. I need help. If you can, please come find me.

Again and again, she sent out the message, changing it occasionally, hoping to lure anyone to her aid. She had no idea how far she was from the city, or in what direction the Stormlord had taken her, so she tried pushing her message in every direction, as far as her abilities would let her reach.

And though she could feel the usual hum of spirits around her in nature, most of those spirits had already found a measure of peace and were not willing to leave it. She could try to force one, but she was not sure that would work.

When someone finally came, it was not a spirit who meant to aid her, but the man who had captured her, and Aurora got her first true look at the Stormlord. He stomped out of the woods, his eyes settling on her as soon as he emerged. And with him came a crush of other souls that followed in his wake.

He looked … familiar, and yet she was certain that if she had ever seen this man in her life, she would never have forgotten it. His hair was black as oil, cut in short uneven spikes. His skin was not pale—it was nearly as dark as Kiran’s, in fact—but there was still a sickly pallor about him that made him look … unwell. His eyes were black pits, made all the more fearsome by the large scar that cut through his right brow, over his eyelid and down to the corner of his mouth. His body was long and lean, and he moved with a slight hop in his step, as though he knew some grand secret that everyone else did not.

“You should know,” he said, “when you send out those blasting pleas for help, you might want to be more discerning. Anyone bothering to listen can pick up what you are sending.”

He smiled at her, and the expression made her stomach turn. She wanted to throw up, but she did not think there was anything inside her to give. She yanked hard on the manacles bound above her head, knowing they would not budge, but unable to stop the impulse.

“Relax,” he sighed. “I am not going to murder you, if that is what you think.”

“No?” Aurora said, her voice wobbling. “Then why stake me to the ground?”