Elaine of Artharia
The fifteen year old said sternly, “Try concentrating on Benjamen, whom you wish to see most in the world.”
Elaine did as she was told to the best of her ability. Her silver gaze hidden behind her eyelids, Elaine brought the few precious memories of the man with a dagger back from the musty catacombs of her past and into the light of the present. The memory that stuck to her mind like a fly in a trap was the one full of heat, the day had dried her out, and if it hadn’t been starvation, it would have been dehydration that did her in. Elaine had been sitting on the side of the road like a broken little bird, burns along her arms from the fire that had taken her family and left her screaming.
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