"The question Demorus, is at what point will you cease hiding it?"
The coach left the confines of the castle wall. The echoing hooves on the cobblestone announced the group's departure. Once outside, Demorus glanced back through the carriage window. For a brief moment, he saw himself taking over and replacing the King’s command. From the opposite seat, Kea’na eyed Demorus with due suspicion. Though her uncle often spoke highly of Demorus, she could summon no trust, nor liking for him from within herself.
The voice of the old woman carried a chill through the air. It reached Gonath and seized him and made it difficult to turn away from the source of such a noise. The initial shock subsided and Gonath found himself staring down at nothing more than a heap of black rags in the road.
He stood trying to determine whether the voice he heard was real, or a product of all the ale he had consumed. He turned around and noticed uneasiness in the horses tied down in front of him.
He turned again to see that the black cloak was still there. This time it began to move. Gonath wished for the second time today that his dagger was with him. The movement from the cloak revealed two withered hands that reached for the hood, which when withdrawn, exposed a face that could only belong to the voice Gonath heard moments ago.
“You are a fool are you not? There is no need for your dagger, at least not yet," came the same voice, “You have much to know and little time to learn your fate, young Gonath."