Draven had seen visions, omen and sights of another time and shadow of possible futures during the course of his life. But nothing could compare to this that shook his being.

He sat up in his room, breath rasping out, with sweat dripping from his flesh. The room was in the dimness of dusk, redolent with old herbal incense from his previous ceremonies; however, the picture that danced across his mind initiated an involuntary shudder down his spine. Gilly.

He had seen Gilly.

She was supposed to be dead. For years now. And yet there she was in the vision, standing before him, her eyes swirling as if a bottomless...