Mia closed her eyes and forced herself to look for a path to the man whose face she remembered as the one that had imprisoned her. Had closed a wall of rock in front of her young face and confined her in utter darkness.
She recoiled slightly at the blackness behind her eyes, but a warm hand squeezed hers.
Ford was with her this time.
The pull of her magic was steady, and didn't change directions. She frowned, and looked for the best path to Trace, and then the best path to Martin.
Nothing moved.
"We're going the same direction, for now," She told her family after a moment, opening her eyes. "I guess Martin must be the same way."
"He should be back in Foundrel, or his body should, at least," Ford's gaze was on her, steadily.
"I don't know what to tell you. He's not."
