I stormed into Lord Xeik’s tent with fire and brimstone visibly burning in my heart for having been deceived. The material of the canvas tore again and brought me to the sight I almost stopped breathing at. The interior stank of sweat and the desperation before death hung in the thick gloom.

There was a woman dressed in black standing still before me; she was fixing a thin black veil to Lord Xeik’s wrist. The material made his arm disappear as if it was a black cloak that was destined to ...