Caedmon had urged Mara to leave as well. She knew Lenore was gone, fleeing the uncaring wreck that was their mother, Hazel. The woman from which Mara had gotten two of her three bloodlines, as well as some of her coloring. The pitch girl slid through the terrain, her muscled teen body managing the distance with ease.
She meant to find Lenore, but she had entirely lost her sister’s trail. Whether she had even had it in the first place, Mara didn’t know. But she finally came upon Drekistone, the powerful home of the Dracarae . . . Mara’s kin. She wanted to join Lenore, wherever she may be, but she also yearned to meet other Dracarae and live somewhere she knew she’d always be safe. Maybe she could bring all of her siblings here, even Calliope, Ophelia and Gedeon who weren’t Dracarae. Their mother was a Dracarae, after all.
Mara howled in. The white on her face was the only thing of her you could see clearly, besides her silver wings, scales and claws; she was dark like night, dark like her royal father who was somewhere in Amaya.

“how tragic is this game?”