There is always another side to a story.
Head bowed, the muscular body trembled in the cold air of the tent. Candles strewn over books, desks and cloth-covered ground cast their pale light, the flicker of flames causing the shadows to quiver in fear.
Hold, he told himself, the pain of the wound rippling through his palm and up his arm. Focus.
It was an impossible task. To reach beyond the night, beyond the stars…beyond life itself.
The smoke curled up between his fingers, like a captive violently escaping a prison, rising and collecting above the giant black orb.
Though a breeze blew steadily through the tent, the smoke resisted, unaffected by natures breath.
Focus!
The smoke billowed, taking form.
In the center of the sphere, flaming red embers appeared, two horns sprouting several inches above each eye.
“It is done?” the deep voice uttered, and the ground rumbled.
“Yes, my Master.” He gritted his teeth through the pain. “The Prime Gate is secure. The Iskari barred the way for the Evolu, as you predicted.”
A thin line ripped across the smoke, curling up at each end.
“Move on Til-Thorin as planned. Double your scouts to secure our foothold.”
He nodded, “Yes, my Master.” Then he added, “And the diversion?”
The burning embers flared and then narrowed to slits, the grin growing wide, edges curling up past the glowing eyes.
“The boy has decided to stay.”
Slowly he lifted his head to meet the piercing eyes of his Master.
…and Thule laughed.
