The Frozen Moon - By J.D. Swinn Page 0,42

that he didn’t wish to share with anyone, how could he know he would not betray himself? He gathered his composure, knowing he was wasting precious seconds.

Seth built a figurative wall in his mind, surrounding all of his thoughts. The only thing he left outside his walled city of will was the information about Daniel that Nameh had passed to him. He went through it once more: Daniel, an old friend of Nameh’s who had turned to the Guild and dark magic. She has no attachment to him now, so you must hurt him if you are given the opportunity. He will not hesitate to reciprocate.

Nameh’s voice resounded through his mind, he recalled the intensity. She had stressed to him, several times in fact, that the group must not be fooled by his deceit, he is a master of manipulation. Apparently she had shared this dark realm of her past with no one, not even Mira. He got a strange sense of pride in knowing that he was the first one she told, even though he was the only one she physically could. He liked Nameh; she was not like most of the annoying girls he had known back home. He had found nearly all of them endlessly irksome, just one more reason why he left, but not the main reason, of course. He tried not to think of his parents, the dreadful row, his mother in tears. The tears meant nothing, she cried so often. He despised the thought; it sickened him to think of her fake emotions. Who were they to determine his whole life? It was inconsequential to them anyway. These he drew into the careful safe haven he had built and locked them away along with thoughts of his long-gone best friend. He didn’t want the others knowing where he had come from. It didn’t matter now anyway, he was never going back.

He shifted his eyes slightly, Daniel wouldn’t notice for his eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Nameh, and a few trivial words were being exchanged. His glance fell to rest on Cal, who was to his close left. He gathered all the necessary thoughts and will, holding all else back with his entire self. It welled inside of him as he took one last breath, and pushed it all forward through him. The first words: Don’t move…

Cal had been surprised to hear Seth’s voice, though he had not recognized it as such immediately. It had taken a great amount of control to keep his face expressionless, but he knew that he mustn’t give him away. He found the story curious; this strange figure from Nameh’s past suddenly appearing in the present gave him an eerie feeling. He didn’t like it; the man seemed too powerful, too evil, too lost. It was as though he were a hollow shell, and if you peered into his eyes all you would see was darkness, without a glimmer of hope. He had never encountered someone like that before; his life had always been filled with such bright people, full of life and vibrancy.

Even his mother, whom he had not always gotten along with, had been a lively woman. He now wished he had appreciated it more when faced with the demon-like men that had been so prevalent in his recent life.

He would go back, he concluded. If he lived through this, that is. At least for a while, tell his parents that he loved them, as he hadn’t in too long. He had never planned on leaving forever, and sooner sounded better than later at the moment, when he felt as though his last few hours, minutes, seconds, were slipping through his fingers. He had never thought much about death. If only you could stop time, he thought. This could be it. This could be over.

Wyd had never been whispered too, strange as it seemed. He had simply encountered few, and those he had didn’t find it necessary to employ their talent. He supposed it was much more useful in times of dire need like this, and not as much in everyday life. Not that it wasn’t a godsend, especially now. He supposed it was rather like having a sub machine gun. It wasn’t terribly practical for grocery shopping, but when it came down to war, it would save your life. He had never been one for war.

In fact, that’s why he had joined the Vine, to escape from war. Warlocks were seldom asked to fight in the front