The wind keened like a bereaved lover over the curtain of the Black Claw Temple, spilling ash and brittle flowers into moonlight.

Elder Kain waited at the smudged boundary of the burned area, his curled hands clenched about the hilt of his staff. Years on, the memory still clung to him like smoke.

The killing had been quick. .

Necessary — or so they had made themselves believe.

"Light please forgive us," Kain panted, but the words stuck in his throat like dust.

And Carden had commanded ...