It was two evenings before Quinn visited Traitor’s Cemetery when Ravan finally arrived at Icebreach, the last town in Duraland before one crossed the border into Vordan. His journey had been uneventful as Quinn had promised, though despite Quinn’s vast knowledge of Duraland being mostly correct, Ravan had run into some evidence that it was three decades outdated. There were six towns along the coast rather than five now, and the towns Quinn had forewarned him about appeared to be much improved since he had left the country. It would seem that the additional port town likely increased trade in the country, thereby aiding the general economy.            However, one other change that must have happened within the last thirty years was that Icebreach appeared to be a struggling town, likely due to it being located so close to jotnar country. Quinn had mentioned to Ravan that he and his men had often used Icebrea

Ravan’s voyage to Morcaida was yet another long and uneventful one. He tried not to be ungrateful considering pirates often frequented these waters and he much preferred not to experience any unnecessary delays. After about two and a half months, Ravan figured that Quinn should’ve arrived back in Arderé, and he happily utilized his Silver Cloak to watch his unpleasant half-brother’s demise. Unfortunately, Ravan had forgotten that Morcaida was closer to Duraland than Arderé, and even though Quinn had departed before Ravan, the bounty hunter still had a way to go before he would arrive. So, Ravan tried to check up on Zair, but either he was still wearing his talisman, or he had already arrived in Le’ Kire. When Ravan found Farzaad’s life had changed little since he’d last saw his half-brother, he didn’t bother using the Silver Cloak for a few more weeks, and rather he endeavored to memorize the contents of his journal. He had studied his own scribbles well enough that he’d a

The longboat which had been prepared for their departure was simple and inconspicuous so as not to draw any suspicion once they docked in Fyodor. Ravan tried to take comfort in the bright-side of being on another ship; that being he had no responsibilities or a need to constantly look over his shoulder. It was an opportunity to relax and complete his recovery from the plague. He took in much sun, drank plenty of mead and water, and ate heartily. Before long he felt his strength renew and he watched as the color returned to his skin. For a time, Ravan thought perhaps this voyage would be somewhat more tolerable with like-minded people on board, even with his distaste for Adrian, but one night Zair decided to get nosy. “So after infiltrating the Maja Forest and obtaining the Silver Cloak, you are now going after the Eye of Raida.” Ravan glanced up at Zair from his bowl of stew. The lanterns which swayed from the ceiling below deck cast just enough l

Screams, howls, and various screeching continued beyond the heavy Temple doors. Ravan stood there for a long moment, pressed against the door, feeling as though only he could keep it shut against the soul-hunting creatures beyond. He breathed a deep, stabilizing breath and slid down the door beside Zair on the floor, who was hyperventilating.            “Steady your breathing, Zair,” said Ravan. “Before you lose consciousness.”            “He’s dead,” said Zair. “Adrian’s dead! What am I going to do?”            “We can still finish this mission.”            Zair jumped to his feet. “No, you don’t understand! How do I face the Northern Council after thi