“He still ached, but it was bearable and getting less painful all the time. In another week, hopefully, he’d be recovered. It still hurt to draw his soul force. John said it was because he’d used too much all at once, but he hadn’t done any permanent damage. Better yet, if Damien had to do it again it would hurt less since he’d done it once already. Damien, Jen, and the rest of her squad rode for the better part of three weeks before the walls of the capital rose in the distance. Damien woul...d have preferred a conjured mount, but John assured him riding a real horse would be better under the circumstances. So here he was, on a rolling, breathing, stinking mount ten miles from the capital. Snow blanketed everything; trees, fields, and fences were reduced to white blobs. He hated winter. Anything might be hiding out under that white expanse. A clever, patient enemy could sneak within a few feet of his target before he struck. Of course, anyone stupid enough to sneak up on Damien and his companions would end up dead in very short order.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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