A great thunderclap erupted over the battlefield. A mighty downdraft whipped at the grass. The flames burning around Sven, Nathalie, and my father rip...led. “The mage!” Aingeal shouted, her soul quivering against mine as we filled the feyhound vessel. “I was fighting the mage. He'll kill us all! We have to get to him!”“But what about Sven?” As I said that, my husband roared in pain, rising over the crackling of the flames. “He needs us!”“Master!” screeched Nathalie, such anger in her voice.. He later bought a small two bedroom house where we would live right up until his death sixteen months ago.It was his death that put me on the road with destiny. With my grandfather having died a year earlier, I had no living relatives. I was fifteen years old, a ward of the state, and living in a group home. A group home is the modern day, politically correct word for an orphanage.I enjoyed my time at the group home. I made a few friends and we had some fun. Two months after being placed I was. More

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