A novel by Meredith Skye

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The desert. Gray, brown, beige.

Memories of a firecave that led from the temple. How long had she walked? She'd lost time, a lot of it.

Asta's mind whirled with thoughts, images and colors—moving too fast for even herself to fully understand.

A battle still raged as she defended her own actions to herself. Why had she let them kill Jaynanth? Why had she joined the Enforcers? Why did the Chanden fight the Garran natives? The questions were fierce and relentless. They threatened to drown Asta as the accusations mounted.

The god-stone would reject her and she would die, alone, in the wilderness.

Red, silver, mauve.

She fought off the pain until she wished for death. How many times could she regret her life and the things she'd done? Why didn't the stone just finish her off?

Did the god-stone have to forgive her—or did she have to forgive herself?

Gray-green, yellow-orange, black.

She lost time again. She'd passed through a Garran village. She now rode a yithhe. A cloak shielded her from the weather. She had no memory of where she'd gotten these things.

Still, she was not forgiven.

A storm had begun. The earth was angry. A war was coming—one that the earth would never allow. That's why it led Asta to the Sea of Glass across the endless, bleak desert.

Whatever the gods planned for the Garrans—she felt it would not be exactly what they had expected. Nor what they wanted.

A path cleared for her to pass safely through the sandstorm.

She spurred her mount towards the northeast and trouble. 

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