Lucinda knelt by the ashes. Like her temper, the pyre was still hot. Running her hand through the coals, shook the soot from her hands and got back up again. The memories of the fire that took her dear sister burned bright as ever. They had Sylvia’s rose. It pained her to know that this sacred, eternal rose was likely tossed haphazardly in the back of some warriors sack… few knew its true power. The clouds would be parting soon and the sun would rise. Lucinda’s hunt began. She must find these...