Hello, lovelies! I'm going to sound like a broken record, I know, but bear with me. I'm so very late again and I apologize. Work has been hectic as usual, now more than ever since I'm a health care provider in the current pandemic, not to mention that my muse remains true to herself and is unpredictable and undisciplined as ever.

Nevertheless, here are three new chapters of Touch of Destiny. Please take note that I've written these chapters many many years ago and my writing style has evolved a lot since then. I've edited them as best as I could, hoping to infuse them with some of my more poetic and angsty writing style, but I honestly cannot bring myself to re-write everything because that would take forever. :( Thus I have not edited these chapters as much as I would have liked. :( I'm trying to teach myself to let it go, because I'm desperately trying to push forward and post up to chapter 35, which is officially how far I've written this story, aside from the hundreds of pages of future scenes and dialogues haha XD. Anyways, my goal is to get to chapter 35 and from then on just write and post, instead of constantly going back to edit and publish previous chapters.

So here goes nothing. :) I hope you enjoy these new chapters. :) Next one is a Sinbad chapter. A missing scene. ;)

Also, a big thank you to all of you readers taking a moment of your time to read my scribbles. Cyndisis, Arya69, Loveangel19, thank you for sticking around! And my forever faithful friend Inbid! Battles sequences are coming up soon! As well as some long awaited answers! Stay tuned! :)

Also, the world is facing a terrible crisis right now. I pray you and all your loved ones are safe and healthy.

Love,

Maevelynn

Chapter 15 – No Turning Back

Maeve stirred, slowly emerging from a bedlam of tormenting dreams, and groggily buried her face in the pillow beneath her to escape the sharp brightness that warmed her eyelids. Unable to claim sleep again, she attempted to open her eyes but was forced to squint against the overwhelming luminosity. When she could finally catch a glimpse of her surroundings, it took her a moment to register where she was, but the rich drapes of the canopy above her head quickly served to jog her memory.

Twisting around in the large supple bed, limbs heavy with slumber, she realized the bright sunlight was coming from a pair of double glass doors that led out to a balcony she hadn't even noticed the night before. Reluctantly pushing herself up to a sitting position, she rubbed sleep out of her eyes and when she stole a glance outside beyond the glass doors, the view immediately took her breath away. Her suite was so high up in the Council that she could see all the way to the ocean in the distant horizon, where the sun of dawn was emerging from the waterline like a tiny, blazing fireball.

She was about to swing her legs out of the covers to get up and enjoy the view from the balcony itself when she froze in sudden alarm.

The sun was up. It was dawn.

The trek was leaving at dawn.

Fuck.

In a flash, she scurried out of bed, her heartbeat flaring up inside her chest like a wild horse whipped into full gallop.

Why had no one come to wake her up?!

Scooping up the towel she had dropped on the floor at the foot of the bed last night, she hurried out of the bedroom and dashed into the bathroom where she'd left her clothes.

Quickly, as the cold hard tiles under her feet effectively chased away the remnants of sleep in her entire body, she slipped out of her nightgown, which she noticed was a ridiculous baby pink color, tossed it aside unceremoniously and went about the task of dressing up, fondling with the legs of her dark brown trousers, the sleeves of her blue shirt and the clasps of her new black corset.

Clumsily hopping on her feet as she slipped on her boots, her fingers grappled for her daggers to properly sheathe them into place while she rushed towards the door, cursing under her breath as she bumped a hip against a decorative table.

Flushed, she emerged out into the hallway only to freeze on the spot in an abrupt halt, finding Leisa casually leaning on the granite column opposite her room, her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk plastered on her face.

Maeve blinked in surprise with a flash of annoyance. "What are you doing here?"

The smirk tugged on the Radakeel's lips. "Waiting for you, to escort you down to the courtyard," she simply answered with her usual stern composure, her long braided hair cascading over her shoulder like lava. "Wouldn't want you to get lost in the maze of corridors and staircases, now would we?" Not waiting for an answer, she tilted her head to the left side of the hall. "This way."

Still flustered by her hasty awakening, Maeve shut the door of her room behind her and quickly followed after the black-skinned woman clad in black leather, frustration rising in her blood. "Why didn't you wake me? It's past dawn!"

"The trek is not leaving before at least another hour," Leisa assured her plainly. "There was no need to wake you sooner."

As they descended a wide staircase that spiraled in on itself, Maeve kicked herself for oversleeping and attempted to tame her tousled hair into a presentable state, while memories of the previous evening slowly crept into her mind with a vengeance, with disconnected fragments of the dreams that plagued her during the night surfacing to nibble at the edges of her thoughts. A storm-tossed ocean with ropes that slipped between her numb fingers, ice-cold waters that stabbed at her skin like blades, a pale-skinned woman with long dark hair pleading a kiss from Sinbad, the dark anger that shone in the dept of his eyes, black and dangerous...

The shady memories quickly made her feel grumpy and irritated, like a stone of frustration was heavily sitting in the pit of her stomach, and by the time she and Leisa joined everybody else in the soldiers' compound by emerging from a side door between the tall colonnade, Maeve desperately wanted to punch something, anything to discharge the rising morass and helplessness within her core.

But there was no release to be had and she had no choice but to discard it all, out of sight and out of mind, like a thick book shut close, for it was time to steel herself for the upcoming trek through the Blind Mountains.

Buzzing with frenzied activity, the courtyard was even more crowded than the day before, if that was even possible, with volunteers and soldiers packing themselves up like mules and pachyderms, hoisting backpacks, bags, satchels of food and numerous deadly weapons onto their shoulders. The loud cacophony of people felt like a slap in the face compared to the quiet gloomy storm inside her head but Maeve continued to snuff it out like a flame, remembering why she was here in the first place, to help these people as best as she could and get to Denwood in one piece to meet Jacob.

"Follow me," Leisa instructed her as she guided her through the thick throng of people, weaving her way towards the front of the courtyard and the flight of white marble stairs that lead back inside the Council's main entry.

After much shouldering and side-stepping and elbowing, they finally reached Simon, Mark, Leo and Coop who were distributing chimes and weapons to their carefully appointed owner at the base of the grand white stairs, a line of volunteers slowly trailing before them to gather their equipment.

In stark contrast with the previous night where they had all been wearing nothing but simple clothes, Robin's companions were now all wearing soldier garbs; simple mid-sleeved deep blue shirts beneath sturdy leather cuirasses and leather plastrons that securely covered their shoulders and torsos, offering the perfect combination of protection for battle and liberty of movement for trekking. Swords were strapped to their backs with the hilt easily within reach above their shoulders, as well as bows and quivers full of arrows, not to mention their belts hooked with an impressive array of knives and daggers.

A brave fellowship ready for combat, they looked quite the handsome and deadly lot, Maeve thought, as did all the other soldiers gearing up around her within the compound, even the volunteers who were also given light leather armors to wear.

For a moment, it gave her chills down her spine to imagine so many civilians facing off against brutal Skinwalkers and Kawasseas, but Leo's bright smile chased her worry away before it could take root.

"Good morning," he greeted her happily, his youthful eyes gleaming with warmth and good nature as he invited her to sit on an empty crate.

Head spinning with the vibrant commotion all around, she returned the young soldier his smile and kindly nodded to the others before taking the offered seat, noting that Robin was absent amongst them and that Leisa had suddenly disappeared.

"Good morning, Your Grace," Coop bowed to her flirtatiously with a flourish of his hand, his foreign accent adding to his roguish character. His choice of title as he addressed her prickled her skin for a moment, but not as much as the sudden silence that settled over their small group as if he had just uttered a seriously bad joke.

Before she could even reply to his salutation, Simon grabbed his companion by the arm to admonish him. "That's not funny," he scolded his friend in quiet warning, with a tightness in the set of his jaw that didn't escape Maeve's notice even if the blonde captain tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

"Easy, mate," Coop shrugged his friend's concern with a light smirk. "No harm done with a simple word."

"Choose it wisely next time," Simon warned him again, letting his position of authority sink in for a few seconds before smiling deferentially at her and stepping away when he felt Coop understood the message well enough.

Maeve eyed his retreating form into the crowd of people with puzzlement, but Coop turned his attention back to her before she could ask what their tensed exchange about a mocking 'Your Grace' was all about.

"Soo..." The tanned-man began as he discarded an empty crate, a wicked grin dancing on his lips. "Have you reconsidered my invitation?"

Maeve raised her eyebrows at him, dimly recalling the moment at dinner last night when he had offered she could make it up to him in exchange for everything he and his friends were doing for her. "Is that what you call it? An invitation?"

"You can call it whatever you want, My Lady," Coop said, picking another title to address her as he winked at her, his black hair sweeping on his forehead.

Amused by his determination, Maeve almost rolled her eyes. "I promise if I change my mind, you'll be the first to know."

"The sooner the better," he replied hopefully. "Before we all die in those cursed woods…"

"Are you pestering her again, Coop?" Mark's strong voice resonated in the air as he handed a quiver and a bow to a young volunteer.

"It's called flirting," Coop quipped to his comrade.

Mark shook his head. "You're wasting your energy, mate. She's out of your league by a thousand miles."

"Perhaps, but faint hearts never won fair maidens," Coop mused with a sing song voice. "This could be the beginning of a beautiful, epic love story. Who knows?"

"I know," Leisa barked as she rejoined their group like a snarling panther. "I should have your head for speaking to her in such a manner." The Radakeel glared at the man with ice cold countenance and the uncomfortable tension that had previously plagued their little group returned like a gust of sharp wind.

"In what manner?" Maeve cut in before anyone else could speak in her stead, annoyed by all their cautious behaviours. "It was just harmless flirting."

Leisa's gaze snapped to her, while Coop merely chuckled in shocked contentment, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

The other woman seemed to churn over a counter argument before finally lowering her gaze in deference. "Forgive me, I simply thought some more respect might be in order."

"I'll be the judge of that," Maeve replied, eying the Radakeel carefully for her next reaction, defiance or acceptance.

The woman gave a single nod, reluctant yet compliant, before extending her hand down to give her a small bundle tied with a tiny rope. "Here's your breakfast."

Maeve took the bundle, blinking in surprise. "Thank you."

Then the Radakeel wheeled on her feet, her mane of lava-red braids swirling in her wake as she moved amidst her companions to give a hand to Mark as he distributed spare weapons and bells to the never-ending queue of volunteers.

The heavy silence remained for a few more seconds, the tension still palpable in the air after the entire exchange, until Coop squashed it with annoyance.

"Wikken Hells, people, relax!" he exclaimed good-heartedly. "I meant no disrespect. I was just trying to lighten the mood. May I remind you we're about to spend a month in the Blind Mountains?"

"Yes, thank you for reminding us," Mark scowled grimly as he armed a volunteer with a pair of daggers.

"At least the first week shouldn't be too dangerous," Leo chipped in encouragingly. "Not until we venture deep enough into Skinwalker territory."

Mark merely grumbled at the young soldier's optimism, and then he, Leo and Leisa all went about their respective tasks of arming the volunteers with blades and bells, leaving Maeve to Coop's attention once more as he yet again discarded another empty crate and hesitantly took a seat beside her.

"Forgive me, My Lady," he apologized with an honest voice, his confident composure becoming slightly sheepish. "Perhaps my companions are right and I spoke too boldly. I did not mean to offend you."

"You did not offend me," Maeve assured him with a polite smile. "I don't know why everyone is making such a fuss about it."

"Well," he said, gazing at his companions. "My guess is they're worried I might disrupt proper decorum. I tend to do that a lot."

"Decorum?" she echoed. "Why would I need to be treated with a specific decorum? Because of my hair?"

Coop paused at her hint of challenge, as if daring him to slip up and reveal something he shouldn't, but the tanned-man simply smiled knowingly at her cunning attempt. "Because you're our guest," he replied smoothly. "And because you deserve the best hospitality we have to offer."

Maeve forced a fake smile at his lazy answer. "Of course."

Coop chuckled, probably sensing she wasn't buying his response. "You don't have to worry about anything," he assured her, honesty sinking back into his tone as a special glint lit up his dark black eyes. "As long as you're here in Kalladrell, you'll be treated like a Queen."

Then he stood up, tossing her his best smirk before joining his companions, his dark hair sweeping over his forehead roguishly.

Maeve narrowed her eyes at his comment, unable to decipher the hidden meaning in his words, and then Simon was by her side to apologize.

"I pray you excuse Coop's behaviour," he said, leaning a shoulder on a pile of crates and crossing his arms. "He can be a bit bold and outspoken sometimes."

"So I've noticed," she replied. "His choice of words certainly seemed to bother you more than it bothered me."

The blond captain gazed at her thoughtfully. "You don't care much for formalities, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"How would you like to be addressed, then? My Lady?" he offered, half serious and half in jest.

"By my name," she answered firmly, looking straight at him.

A small smile curved his lips and he nodded in defeat. "Fair enough."

He then motioned for a young soldier to come forward, the lad laying a backpack, two satchels full of fruits, a broadsword, a bow and a quiver down at her feet, which Maeve immediately recognized as her new belongings that everyone had gathered for her the night before.

"I'll let you eat and get ready," Simon said politely, turning on his heels to return to his work.

But Maeve quickly called after him, impulsive and bristling with curiosity, a burning question hanging on her lips. "So, what's so special about red hair around here?"

Simon stopped dead in his tracks, as if his feet were suddenly rooted to the ground. Reluctantly, he turned around to face her, looking profoundly cornered and uncomfortable, and Maeve almost regretted ambushing him with such a loaded question.

"That's cheating," a voice rang behind her as Robin appeared, rescuing his companion and scowling at her in admonishment.

"Good morning," she greeted him with her best innocent smile.

"Good morning," he replied gruffly, oblivious to her mellow tone as he rested a booted foot beside her on the crate and leaned towards her from behind with yet another scowl. "Didn't I tell you you'd get your answers when we reach Denwood?"

Her fake smile switched to a grimace. "You can't blame a girl for trying."

Robin tilted his head, still looking at her like a misbehaving child, his sharp blue eyes weighing heavily on her until she finally glanced back at Simon with an apologetic smile, the blond man fidgeting on his feet as he eyed them both wordlessly.

Half amused by her attempt to steal answers from his men, Robin tossed her a final warning look then stood up straighter to address his captain. "How are the preparations going?"

Simon cleared his throat and stood taller as well, regaining some kind of formality. "We've distributed the bells to the appointed soldiers and left a couple of spare ones in ten different sacks. All in all, every volunteer knows his place in the trek and what he is to carry. We're ready to leave whenever you are."

"Good, we should depart in half an hour," Robin informed his companion and the blond man quickly made himself scarce, heading back to do his duty and officially prepare soldiers and volunteers for the dreaded departure.

Tensed and somber, Robin turned to her then, glancing at the gear at her feet and the bundle of food in her hands. "You should eat before we leave," he suggested. "The next time will be in a couple of hours."

She nodded quietly, observing the anxious edge in his movements and the palpable tension that was radiating from his entire body, betraying the numerous concerns that must be colliding in his mind at the moment, a General on the brink of undertaking a dangerous trip with hundreds of lives under his care. A General, she also noted, who was humbly clothed like the soldiers under his command, a simple outfit of black trousers and a deep blue shirt, with a black leather plastron devoid of any extra flourish. The only indicators of his rank were the creases of apprehension on his face and the square set of his shoulders ready to tackle any danger that might threaten the safety of those under his protection.

The man she had conversed with last night by the firelight had been only human, a soldier afraid for his men and his people and rattled by self-doubt about his abilities to keep everyone safe. The man that stood before her now was made of stone and steel, a pillar of strength and security for everyone gathered in the courtyard, and promising to be formidably deadly in the battles to come.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, the softness in his voice clashing with the rough edges of his countenance.

"Like a babe," she lied, concealing it behind a smile. "You?"

"Like a rock," he lied in return, she was sure of it, as his haunted blue eyes watched his men prepare for the wicked Blind Mountains. "I'll see you when we depart."

Then he walked away, sparing her the best comforting smile he could muster before her gaze followed his retreating form as he was swallowed into the crowd of people in the courtyard, the clanking of swords and the buzz of conversation muffling the sound of his boots on the pebbled ground.

With a heavy sigh, her eyes then landed on the pile of gear at her feet and the small bundle of food in her palm, courtesy of Leisa so she didn't starve before the trek. At the thought, she found herself searching for the woman's trademark mane of red braids and soon spotted her between Coop and Mark a few yards away, helping a fellow soldier strap his broadsword on his back.

The woman was a complete mystery, Maeve mused quietly, pondering on her new female companion. The Radakeel was so cold and serious all the time, like an impenetrable stone wall that could withstand any tempest, fierce and lethal and impassive, yet there was this...this...Maeve couldn't quite place her finger on it...There was a puzzling protectiveness emanating from the woman, like some sort of genuine caring devotion hidden beneath the rough exterior she projected, and she could sense deep down that the woman truly had a good heart despite her icy countenance.

What equally bothered and puzzled her though, was the way Leisa always seemed to be lurking somewhere around her like a cat, a second shadow cloaked in black leather, reminding her of a tigress watching over her cub, and Maeve couldn't help but recall what Robin had told her the day before, about Radakeels being exceptional warriors who pledged their life to protect the people they deemed worthy enough. Surely Maeve wasn't even close to being on Leisa's list of people to protect, but then again, as she glanced down at the little parcel of food in her hand, she couldn't help but wonder.

Deciding she should take Robin's advice and eat before they departed, Maeve opened the little bundle revealing a loaf of bread, a slice of cheese and a red apple. She wasn't particularly hungry but she nibbled at the food anyway since she most likely wouldn't get the chance to eat again in the next couple of hours.

Drifting away in her little bubble, she ate in silence and studied the people around her, sorting out the soldiers in their leather uniforms and matching blue shirts from the volunteers also sporting protective plastrons but wearing simple clothes beneath, a strategic purpose so the soldiers could easily spot each other amongst the crowd of people they were charged to protect.

As her eyes danced over the crowd, she noticed that the women taking part in the trek were all wearing practical outfits like her own, trading dresses for trousers so they could move their legs at will with no restraints. Coming in a variety of simple colors like brown, grey, forest green and burgundy, their shirts and jackets were beautifully adorned with little details and patterns unique to everyone, and Maeve was suddenly thankful to have an outfit of her own that fit in with all of them instead of her old foreign dress that would have awkwardly stood out. She also took pride in the fact that the deep blue color of her shirt was matching with the soldier's outfits, a color that was apparently absent in the other women's garments and the civilian's clothes. It made her feel like she belonged with the soldiers, charged with the same duty to defend and protect the people.

Then, as she chewed down a bite of apple, she slowly began to realize what was truly happening in front of her in the courtyard. People were gearing themselves up with weapons and provisions. But they were also saying goodbye.

All around, mothers were saying farewell to their sons, wives were kissing their husbands and holding them tight, sisters were embracing their brothers and wishing them luck, friends were hugging each other and clutching hands, some were crying, some were holding back tears.

The sad, tragic spectacle broke Maeve's heart, on the one hand because she truly felt for those brave people who were risking their lives to bring aid to those who needed it in Denwood, and on the other hand, because she had no one to say goodbye to, a realization that hurt as a good as a blade between her ribs.

She was alone.

She had no one to hug, no one to hold, no one to kiss. The crew wasn't here. Dermott wasn't here. The spark of longing painfully twisted inside her chest like a knife, but she quickly shrugged it away as shame filled her blood, and she had to remind herself that as much as she had not willingly chosen to embark on such a perilous journey, all those people around her had voluntarily made that choice, to face the dangers of the Blind Mountains to help their kin on the other side, their courage ten times mightier than hers. It filled her with renewed determination, like wind blowing in the Nomad's sails and propelling her forward.

So she quickly toughened herself up and finished breakfast, then went about the task of gearing up to be ready on time for the departure. Using Sinbad's red bandana, she tied up her hair in a pony tail to keep stray strands away from her eyes and face, then she secured her new sword behind her back, carefully tying up the baldric over her shoulder and making sure she could easily reach the hilt above her head to rapidly unsheathe the blade if need be. When she was satisfied, she quickly checked the content of her backpack to verify if she wasn't missing anything before hoisting it up on her shoulders over her sword, adjusting the straps to the right length. She then slipped the two leather satchels of fruits over her head and let them rest against each of her hips. After that, she slid her quiver of arrows on her right shoulder and grabbed her bow.

She had just joined Simon, Leisa and the others when a clanking sound began to ring across the entire courtyard, growing louder and louder, echoing through the colonnade on either side like a gloomy song, the soldiers thumping their swords on crates and barrels to draw everyone's attention to the grand white marble stairs up front where Robin now stood, with Wizards George and Adam slightly off to the side behind him like guardian statues.

He was completely geared up as well now, his broadsword strapped to his back, twin daggers sheathed on his belt, a quiver and a bow over his shoulders. He looked every bit the General he was at that moment, commanding and inspiring and formidably lethal.

He waited for the clanking to stop, quietly assessing everyone in the courtyard with his raptor blue eyes before addressing the crowd somberly, his voice deep and resonant as it echoed in absolute silence. "Three weeks ago, the people of the village of Denwood were victims of the most savage, brutal, and merciless raid we could ever imagine, conducted by the Blood Raiders," he began, and by the grim faces around her Maeve could tell his words were bringing back nightmarish memories for everyone. "In the blink of an eye, like a bolt of lightning, these heartless animals swarmed on shore and destroyed everything from crops, wells and orchards to houses, cattle and grain, and killed nearly everyone from toddler to elder. They slaughtered every man, right after they raped their women and mutilated their children, and then, as fast as they came, these murderers fled back to Tyross, leaving behind them nothing but ashes and ruins, the ghost of a village once filled with life but now only inhabited by the few despairing souls who survived the nightmare." Maeve swallowed hard, the gory images flashing before her eyes in familiar recollection of the brutal invasion that had destroyed her life many years ago. She listened hard as Robin went on, an angry fire burning in his eyes. "When the Blood Raiders attacked our gates a few months ago, that nightmare was almost our fate but we were strong enough to repel them. The villagers of Denwood weren't. That's why they need our help." He paused, appraising the people in front of him, men and women, soldiers and volunteers alike. "Each and every one of you, with kindness, generosity and courage, has volunteered to bring aid to our brothers and sisters on the other side of the Blind Mountains. I won't lie to you by saying the trek will be easy. It won't. You all know the odds when it comes to crossing these woods. You all know what evil creatures await in the dark. Now is your final chance to change your mind. Because once we enter the forest there will be no turning back." He waited then, a dreadful silence settling heavily in the courtyard as he offered the people one last chance to turn around and leave, the loaded silence slicing through everyone's courage and determination.

But there was an iron resolve shining in the soldiers' gazes, a spark of tenacity that was as cold as ice and as hard as steel, an unwavering steadfastness that was matched by the volunteers as everyone proudly looked up to the man that would lead them through the Blind Mountains.

No one would turn back. No one would leave.

Assessing the crowd's final response to his last offer to back down and go home, Robin gave them a single nod, acknowledging their decision and their courage while also resigning himself to protect them all. "I promise you I will do everything I can, as well as all of my men, to ensure that we all make it safely to Denwood."

The crowd erupted once more with the solemn clanks of swords over barrels and crates, a gloomy song ringing in the morning air, and Robin marched down the stairs to join them, ready at last to depart for the long journey.

Mark handed him his backpack while Coop gave him two satchels of food to carry. He slipped them all onto his back and across his shoulders, then reminded them all of their respective positions in the trek. "Alright. Simon, you take the rear with Coop. Mark and Leo, you take the middle. Leisa, you're with me up front."

The men all acquiesced and dispersed into the crowd to reach their appointed post, all except Leisa who remained rooted by Maeve's side, refusing to move an inch as Robin walked past them to lead the way. "I'm with her."

Maeve blinked at the Radakeel's statement, ready to assure her she could very well manage on her own anywhere in the trek line but Robin replied before she could even speak. "She's with us," he rectified, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Let's go."

And then he was walking again, stern and serious, heading for the mouth of the portcullis to the left of the white marble stairs, and Maeve could only follow after him as Leisa flanked her resolutely.

She had not expected to be granted a place directly at the front of the trek line, yet she wasn't surprised either by the decision, highly suspecting it was connected to the underlying issue of her hair. Robin probably much preferred to have her right under his nose than lose her amidst the crowd like he had the previous day in the market square. Why, she still didn't have a clue, but so be it. If he was so hellbent on protecting her, then she would make sure to keep a raptor eye on him as well and return the favor.

As they strolled by the flight of stairs, Wizards George and Adam interrupted them with words of farewell, like two guardians attempting to bless their dire mission. "May the spirits be with you and your men, Robin," Wizard George said solemnly, while his companion leveled his cryptic gaze on her. "And may they watch over you closely, my dear."

Maeve was momentarily unsettled to be on the receiving end of those wishful words, and a simple nod was the only response she was able to muster in return to their kind departing smiles, a sense of déjà vu swelling in her heart as she remembered all too well the similar farewell she had exchanged with Dim-Dim the previous day before she was catapulted here into this strange kingdom.

But she quickly shrugged off the rising goosebumps on her flesh and followed Robin and Leisa out into the shadowed portcullis, the three hundred soldiers and volunteers in the courtyard marching behind them like an army of brave souls heading to their doom.