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Twenty more feet of crawling through these vents and she would be able to see the targets. No. Not Targets…suspects. Not targets. The strike team didn’t want to use her at all, but none of them could fit through the vents. They were trained to take risks, so risked her involvement. She couldn’t blame them. Why didn’t matter. They needed eyes in the factory before they could move on the suspects. There were supposed to be hostages. Three hostages. Family of three. The heat from steel factory flowed through the vents in heavy waves. She could feel the strength in the heat. No! No. Have to stay focused on the mission!

The last month of pregnancy was filled with horror and heartbreak for Diadana. Her brother’s kingdom was invaded by Ronlo, a kingdom west of Whitehold. The home she was raised in was burnt to the ground. Her brother’s wife, Queen Hara, and two children, Carla age 12 and Ronie age 3, fled to Whitehold for refuge. Diadana bore everything as best she could, but when news of her brother’s death came it shocked her right into labor. Rosie stayed right by Diadana’s side with Vornad on the other holding his wife’s hand. The midwife suggested that they wait outside, as it looked to be a long hard birth. But nobody could

The celebration turned out to be as wonderful as Rosie had planned, dance floor of polished wood and all. And the evening would be extra special for the guests, as the King and Queen personally greeted their guests at the entrance to the hall. Rosie placed herself behind the royal couple, “Just in case.” She told herself. The first they greeted was, of course, King Carlis of the Great Northern Kingdom and his commanders, who helped Whitehold defend against the barbarians. And were the only ones invited to the original feast. “Greetings King Carlis and welcome to…” Vornad started in the proper manner. “Do

“Sometimes I swear I am just an old hag!” She swore at the mirror. The Old Woman, thinning white hair, bent, gnarled and looking well past her years, strode from the mirror toward the center of her chamber with such a grace, quickness and anger that a youth of sixteen would have found it difficult to keep up, provided they even wanted to. Of course, She was always stronger when She was mad. After pacing a bit, She rounded to the fireplace and a large padded chair, once red, now growing brown with age. Her bones cracked as She sat, as if claiming the chair to be young in comparison. A grin crossed Her lips, ´No better than