Now those who did it to him were trapped hurt burned and begging for mercy just as he had.
Before they left the hut, Hannah glanced toward the shadowed corner where one of the Duke's personal shadow guards lingered.
She had learned earlier that this guard specialized in illusion magic, a rare and irregular talent hidden among the household's protectors.
"Erase their memory of us." she said quietly, so only the guard could hear.
"Leave them the pain, the scars, the terror. Let them remember burning and breaking and begging. But they must never recall who did this to them. No faces, no voices, no dragon. Only the agony of their own cruelty."
The shadow guard dipped his head in silent acknowledgment.
He raised a gloved hand, and faint silvery magic wove through the air, seeping into the whimpering men's minds.
They would suffer for what they had done, but they would never trace the vengeance back to Gorthmorde.
When the last whimper faded Hannah gave the order.
