He was just six years old when his parents had died. He was there. He remembered a night of fire, blood and screams. He remembered crying, panting, his lungs searing as he ran for dear life.
Sanda Ariel came to him that night. Being close to her was like feeling a cool breeze in a moment of sweat and horror. She had wrapped her arms around him, the folds of her billowing jacket like vast wings shielding him from the heat and the hurt.
She made him strong, made him fast. No one could move like Kaelan Hyde moved. She made him who he was.
Seven years after that night, that same woman drew a scar on his face and left him for dead. What drove this woman, mysterious but kind, silent but caring, to spill the blood of the child she had taken under her wing? For four years, Kaelan Hyde struggled to answer this question.
He blinks; the scar stretches down the right side of his face. He's seventeen now: taller, leaner, almost handsome - but his eyes still look like the tear-stained eyes of a six-year-old orphan, or perhaps the hollow, lifeless eyes of a traumatized thirteen-year-old boy.
His sword is sharp. His will is unfathomable. He has become so strong.
But is he strong enough to face Sanda Ariel?
There was only one way to find out.
Read Waywalker.
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