The camp was quiet once more—not the kind of silence from a battle, but this one was cold, like the whole camp felt the pain of Amon's death.
Even though they had defeated the Grace Knight, there was no celebration, no noises. The silence stretched far and wide. Everyone just stared at each other with nothing but silence.
Riven stared down at his hands, the Fractured Sigil still in between his fingers. It was shaped like a jagged piece of obsidian, bound in thin silver threads that seemed to hum.
He glanced toward Johnny, raising the sigil. "What's this? It seemed so important to him when he wanted to give it to me."
Johnny twisted his head in response. "I don't know. He mostly keeps these kinds of things from me," he murmured.
"But... but if you want to know what it is, you can talk to Eiris. She's the only one in the camp that seems to know all."
"Eiris?" Riven asked again, glancing over to Veyla.
