The gates of Hearthome were like twin monoliths carved from volcanic stone, their surfaces gleaming with embedded crystals that caught and reflected the eternal flame burning somewhere within the city. Steam drifted from vents along the massive walls, creating curtains of vapor that made the guards seem like phantoms until Xavier and his companions drew close enough to see their faces clearly.
Xavier felt like death warmed over. Three days of hard riding had left him hollow-eyed and gaunt, his black hair matted with sweat and snow. The clothes Olga had sold them in Vykengard were torn and stained with blood—some his own, most from the creatures they'd killed along the way. Beside him, Naomi swayed slightly in her saddle, exhaustion written in the tight lines around her golden eyes. Ashley sat straighter despite her injuries, but the faint golden fractures along her jawline caught the firelight from the city walls, marking her as someone who'd pushed her abilities too far.
