Sorsha’s face was grim as she stared at the towering flames. Twenty-seven. That is the number of faes they had to dispose of before news got to Selah. Twenty-seven faes who were ready to betray their blood for the sake of staying in servitude to the witches. A slow growl escaped Sorsha, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“You have to keep calm,” Marza warned as she bowed her head to the flames in false grief. “I think the message has been loud and clear to the young ones. Now anyone who feels the vibrations will not be able to speak out because they will be too afraid to die.”
“Twenty-seven of our people, Marza,” Sorsha hissed.
“No longer our people. They were ready to betray our princess for spell casters,” Marza shook her head. “I am tired of being here. I want to go home to our
