
The moon hung low in the cloudless sky, and the Eight Sentinels below were awash with its soft, pale light, mingling with the gleaming glow of the Syrcus Tower behind them. The expedition party had already begun to disperse: first Rammbroes and his researchers, then Cid and his engineers, leaving only G’raha Tia, Doga, Unei, and the Warrior of Light behind. They lingered, but not overlong; there was much to be done, yet another great evil to be defeated within the awakened tower, and they had precious little time.
“Wait.”
At a single word from the Warrior of Light, however, the others stopped, turning back with curious looks. Until now, Robyn had held his tongue—Robyn Lanner, a Midlander slight of build and unassuming in stature, in such extremes that few would take him for such a storied hero were it not for his mastery of black, forgotten arts. But he spoke now, looked to G’raha with an uneasy stare, and did his best to fix a look of determination on his face before he turned to Doga and Unei.
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