The Past's Shadows
The slight pulse of the mark on Iris's wrist served as a rhythmic reminder of her intertwined fate. As she went through the darkened packhouse hallways, she caressed it absently. She could still hear Lyra's veiled menace, a silk-wrapped, jagged sword. "Iris, keep your place. Or you may end up in a worse situation than you were in the beginning.
Iris's fists clenched. Worse off? She had previously experienced betrayal, poisoning, and expulsion from her own life. Could they take any more?
Her tumultuous thoughts were interrupted by the muffled sound of rustling at her window. The subtle metallic smell of blood filled her nostrils. Rogues. Running to the window, she looked out. A figure's shadow crept past the packhouse and headed quickly into the woods.
She felt a blaz
