Book 11: Stepping Aside

Ryan

Three days later...

Tarsian is gone. 

That’s the only way to describe it. The cities, the packs… it’s nothing but endless, blood-stained desert now. Even the sea lapping against the shores of Serpentia is stained a dark red, but I watch it fade as I stand on what’s left of a deck overlooking the ocean. 

Behind me, the incessant chatter of the injured and healing overwhelm the sound of the waves. A few people walk along the sand–warriors of different ranks and alliances. A young man in tattered Arcane Umbra armor talks to a group of men in armor from the Roguelands, reunited with old friends. 

The curse is gone. The soldiers the Umbra Mortis turned into his puppets, his monsters, well… so far, they have no memory of the war, which is a blessing. 

The rest of us remember, though. How could we ever forget what happened here? How are we possibly going to move on? 

“Ryan?”

I turn toward Kenna’s