Syryn was in the eye of a storm that wasn't of his making. Within the winds that churned beyond his centre, he was strangely calm. Magnus' imminent departure loomed upon the household as dusk arrived. Rowan too had left after Syryn inspected his stitches one more time. And as the alchemist sat nursing a calming drink with Lucien, Artemus arrived and he wasn't alone.
Assassin, the first word that came to Syryn's mind when he saw Riaku. Alka hadn't exaggerated when he'd commented about the similarities between Salem and Riaku. Physical similarities aside, their auras were strangely alike yet opposites. Riaku had the calmness that Salem exuded but the prince made people feel like a terrible, life-threatening danger lurked underneath his cool exterior.
