After he'd arranged himself once more into the infallible image of the Order, Ciprian continued on his way. Night fell, and the shadows of the trees stretched around him.
He cast a spirit light to keep them away, but he every so often he paused, scanning the darkness with keen eyes. He felt like something was watching him from that in between place that he hated so much. When one shadow seemed to stretch toward him from overhead, he made his light brighter to push it back where it belonged.
Instead of going directly to the Core, he took the path that led to Rowan's garden. The souls under his care might be a sufficient sacrifice to imbue Ciprian's stolen knife with the magic needed to dispatch the enemy once and for all.
As soon as he set his intent, he could sense the woods' displeasure.
