Author's Point of View

Night had fallen on the packhouse, casting dark shadows on the walls and a still hush across the grounds. The test had cost Marcus more than he would admit. His body ached, heavy and relentless, muscles tense from the ferocious fight. Blood was dried over the gash at his ribs, and every breath sent a dull agony through his side. He was supposed to be resting.

He wasn’t.

Marcus sat alone in his room, a glass of whiskey still in his hand. The room was dimly lit, the fire in the hearth smoldering low. Beyond the window, the forest stretched out like an infinite chasm, dark...