With her father's memory failing and her mother gone, Soraya Thenayu enrolls in distant Darkwood Academy and immediately becomes enemies with the richest kid at school. Between hiding her father's gift of illegally harvested magic, befriending socia...
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Tishva's eyelids fluttered open. A bright, hazy ceiling light stared coldly down at him, its pale yellow beams illuminating the dark stone walls surrounding where he lay.
Where's Yosef?
As he lifted his head, a sharp pain shot through his skull. Groaning, Tisvha laid back down onto the cool, smooth surface beneath him. His whole body ached as if he had been slammed into by a rock. He gingerly flexed his fingers.
Not broken... All intact.
He carefully moved his arms next, causing the thick chains on his cuffed wrists to clack against the cold table he was sprawled out on.
"Oh good. You're finally awake," a silver tongued voice slithered into the air.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" Tishva managed to say despite his head wanting to split in half.
"You like getting to the point of things, don't you?" A tall, thin man leaned into view, obscuring the light above. All Tishva could see was a dark silhouette looming over him. "I finally found you, Tishva Thenayu. Or should I say, Favis Mortlock? Vin Torvil?"
The other names sounded vaguely familiar to Tishva. A ghost of a memory appeared in the back of his head, but no matter how hard he tried to grasp onto it, the details eluded him.
"You've had many undercover names for various missions, making it very difficult to pinpoint you."
Tishva chuckled darkly. "I can't remember much of anything anymore, so if you captured me for information, there's not much I can give you."
"I'm well aware of that conundrum," the voice replied. Glistening pearls emerged from the dark figure. "Your friend there started doing research and asking questions, alerting me of your existence. I followed the breadcrumbs and made some links..."
The longer Tishva stared at the tall figure, the more clear his vision became. The man's skin was unusually pale. He had long, silvery hair flowing down on both sides of his face, and his gleaming silver eyes pierced into the depths of his soul.
"Amraphael?" Tishva breathed.
The man's stare hardened. "No. I'm not him," he spat before pacing in circles around the table Tishva was bound to. "Just call me Zinvi."
"What do you want?" Mr. Thenayu sighed.
Does he know about Jonathan Marlot contacting me? He thought back to the letter he had received from Atohi and Che's son and frowned. The young man seemed desperate to meet with him and had shared the disturbing news of both his parents suffering from memory loss.
