Feran Stormweather knelt, closed his eyes, and felt rich, damp, soil beneath his fingertips. He inhaled and thought of shadows, the cool shade, and protection from the light. A cool energy surged through him. Light and the heat from it blistered the skin, scorched the earth, blazing across Ardor, not caring what it burned away or who it left as a heap of ash. It was the ever-present danger to the people of The Daggers, the city Feran called home. 

He eased his dagger from its sheath with his f...