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The wet sound of blade sliding out of flesh bothered Storsh for the first time in decades as his father crumpled into a lifeless heap at his feet. He lifted the bloodstained sword so it caught the light, then threw it aside. One hooded figure remained, and she approached quietly. The giant ignored Jessica's presence as she placed a hand lightly on his back.
"It is done, Karesh. Remember our teachings." The woman's words echoed in his head as the frail body was lowered into the ...

"Karesh! Left! Jo! Right!" Young Karesh could see the other Red Earth party advancing from the other side. They had the fun job, he was the distraction. Still, something easy for his first job was nothing to complain about. The bandits stood in the center, sorting through their pilfered goods while the wagon they jumped burned. Two desperately attempted to put out the fire with buckets of dirt, as the flame and smoke acted as a beacon to their position. Too late. One stood vigilant, watching ...

The handwriting is shaky, almost ineligible.

It can't be. Putting pen to paper, and nothing. I followed them. The girl with father. She's not who she seems to be. Let down her hood. Much older. Too old. That hair. The secrecy. She never speaks. She isn't one of Storsh's children. Much too old. Much too different. I saw them. In that moment. They embraced. They kissed. The others must know. Not Madeleine. Never Madeleine. I do not know if they saw me. No. They didn't.

How is it that I seem to know nothing of my own sister? Father keeps her close, almost as close as Madeleine, the spoiled brat. Yet she never, ever speaks. How can one with no voice be such a boon to father? Perhaps they speak in private. Yet, never in front of the rest of his children? She keeps her damn hood up at all times. Her jaw tells me nothing. Skin is on the light side, she is rather short, perhaps she's not a Child of the Red Earth at all? I know. In January, father has planned to take ...

Father has succeeded in raising a child that jumps at shadows. The way to a giant's downfall is not to hack his ankles until he topples like a tree, but to go through the fear in his heart. Amputation turns him into a strategist instead of a grunt. Fear turns him cold and mistrusting. Which has been more crippling? To myself? To Rook? Caroline? He cares nothing for us. We had no choice from the beginning. He is using us to rebuild the Red Earth. I sometimes wonder if his wishes to get close to Kyne ...