Orin Sarnec
One hundred twenty years later and the sound of his laugh still haunted her. Every time she closed her eyes, he was there and in the quiet moments she found, she could feel him around her. Would it never end? Would he never find his peace? Was this her punishment? Breezes stirred her curls when there was none, a warm brush against her cheek when she was alone and the smell of oil and leather surrounded her when she was feeling most alone. He was still here. Luukos wouldn't have taken his soul but when she'd spoken to a High Priestess of Gosaena, she said his soul had not passed through her Lady's gates. She was pouring over the text in front of her, her candle light growing dim, when a rush of wind swirled in her room. Her curtains whipped in the air and the candle went out. Slender fingers gripped the dagger at her side and her gaze snapped up, focusing in the dark. A familiar chuckle, yet somehow different, echoed around her and she jumped to her feet, sending