Book II - Ayla

Ayla picked up the ladle and a wooden bowl and eyed the cauldron filled with stew. What for others was a simple task of filling a bowl with food, for Ayla, ever since the Black Tower, it had become hard to do. Not only that her fingers spasmed all the time, but they also hurt when she tried to do the most simple things, like tying her laces.

Rhobart and Milton had started working on her hands the previous day, but the results had yet to show. She knew she had to be patient. Some injuries took more time than others to heal.

“Do you need any help, t’xoria?” asked Rhobart in a gentle tone. He sat on a rock close to the camp’s fire, writing on some parchments. Kerra was curled up next to his feet.

Ayla’s eyes met his, and she gave him a soft smile. During the fight with Galian and the Dark Master, she feared for Rhobart and the others. A Dark Master was more powerful than a Shaman or a Seeker.

She did need help, but as she looked around the small camp they found abandoned in a forest, she