Edvard slowly stirred, fighting the sleepiness that filled his entire body. He fought to simply stay conscious. Sleep was a tempting mistress, but his years in the illusion taught him never to let sleep dull his sense. He needed to confirm the situation. The last thing he recalled was seeing Abigail among the carnage.

Abigail was sitting near a fire, her clothes a mess of blood and tears, having used her clothes as bandages for Edvard's wounds. Forcing himself upright, Edvard smiled. She was a beautiful girl, far too young for him, but he could at least enjoy the sight as the fire illuminated her hair. Her hair was no longer a shiny bright green but rather a deep dark green. Yet it was still enchanting as a shine would come through as the flames of the fire played in the wind.

Edvard was lying atop some large leaves, close enough for the fire’s heat to reach him. His own clothes were tattered, his toning muscles reflecting the light of the fire. A few more months, and he would be at