The night wind stirred, grass and trees rustled, and a short figure slipped through Ian's door with practiced ease. He had come this way many times, so naturally he made no sound.
But soon, the figure's nose twitched. He grew alert, raising a hand to signal the other shadows behind him to stop and advance no farther.
He smelled blood.
Unlike beast blood, human blood had a distinctive scent. The shamans of the Children of the Forest were familiar with that pure aroma. Though this blood carried far too many acquired impurities, it was still far cleaner than that of any wild beast.
Whose blood was it? Had Osena finally slaughtered his older nephew?
The figure heard neither Osena nor anyone else. His keen hearing told him that there was only one young child in the room, breathing slowly in his dreams—the designated sacrifice, the child named Elan.
"Osena..."
The figure was somewhat displeased. His low murmur carried a strange, peculiar accent, rough with the untamed forest, yet it was unmistakably the language of the Empire.
They had agreed that both nephews would be handed over to them. The Sacred Rite required the blood and organs of one who was purest and knew nothing of the world, as well as the flesh, blood, and brain of one strongest and most steadfast. The Mountain Tide Spirit accepted only these two kinds of sacrifices as well.
Osena truly could not be trusted.
—Forget it.
Standing where he was, the figure considered it for only a moment before shaking his head slightly.
As long as it was not the youngest one who had been killed, it was fine. Children of eight or nine were not rare. Even if Harrison Port was rather tightly guarded, they could always abduct a few from the nearby