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Torn Between Destinies - Chapter 59 - Fifty Nine
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... d his hand on my forehead and whispered the chant that loosened my soul from flesh. There was no gentle drift, no floating through warmth and light. My spirit was pulled like a thread through a storm—tugged by urgency, by fear, by a whisper I didn’t recognize until I landed.
Wind howled through pine trees. I blinked into fog. A familiar fog. This was Thornridge, or at least the echo of it. I stood on the edge of the forest, not far from the old council hall. But everything was washed in ...
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