The man, Nekanas, held tightly to the little boy his master had required him to capture. It was not the first time Torin had demanded Nekanas steal precious things, but it was the first time he’d demanded a child.

Nekanas held tightly to Cuinn’s tiny hands as they flew through the night toward Torin, kicking at the blasted giant who was holding onto the boy with all of her might.

He hadn’t expected her to grab onto him at the last moment, and now he was fighting to lose the dead weight of a twelve-foot-tall woman tasked with a different sort of demand.

He couldn’t allow himself to feel pity for her. His mind wasn’t yet controlled by Torin, but he knew well enough whose side he was on, whose side he would stay on.

The winning side.

Nekanas intended to survive the coming war between Torin and whomever it was that was making him so angry, even desperate.

Desperation was never a good sign in a leader, but with one as powerful as Torin in the fight, Nekanas knew whom to ally himself with.

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Finally, he landed a good, hard kick against the giant’s skull, and she let go, holding her head with both hands as she plummeted to the earth below.

Studying the mountainous horizon now, he imagined the treasure that awaited him on the other side of this journey. He licked his lips as he pictured himself drinking from Torin’s ever-growing pool of liquid magic, pictured himself feeling the strength that ingesting Light brought to him.

He looked down at the boy and hoisted him up, gripping him hard around the middle, unwilling to let such a prize go.

He could practically taste the Light on his lips.

Nothing else mattered.

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