narrow chest, and not your common or garden sword either but one as brilliant as the dawn, bright as steel drawn from the white heat of the furnace. Sageous looked down at the point, astonished, and it advanced until a foot of gleaming blade stood from his chest. ‘What?’ Blood ran from the corners of his mouth. ‘This is not your place, heathen.’ Wings unfurled behind the man as if they were his own. White wings. White like summer clouds, eagle-feathered, broad
