Darian
We reached the black sedan I’d driven to the airstrip. Lucian and I climbed in. I fastened my seatbelt, adjusted the rearview mirror, and started the engine. The hum of the car was the only sound for a moment as I pulled out onto the road.
Then I glanced over at him.
“Did you find out anything about Alaric?” I asked, keeping my tone steady.
Lucian looked over at me with a spark in his eye I hadn’t seen in weeks.
“Actually, yeah,” he said, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “I’ve got a picture of him. And he’s here. On Mooncrest.”
I glanced at him, feeling the adrenaline kick in.
“I don’t know where exactly,” he added, “but he’s close. And he’s preparing for war.”
A cold rush of focus settled over me. Finally—finally—we had something real. A face. A presence. No
