Chera shook her head. 'Twilight, sir' she muttered. 'She said to make yersel' ready and come at the ghost hour.'
Mihn nodded gravely. 'The ghost hour it is. Thank you, Chera.'
He stood impassively, waiting until the child had disappeared back into the trees before he gave in to the overwhelming emotion that had hit him at her words.
His face drained of blood and he sank to his knees, his legs betraying him. Gasping like a drowning man, he allowed a single moan of sorrow to escape his lips before he buried his face in his tattooed palms.
'Isak,' he whispered, choking on his own tears. 'Merciful Gods, Isak, what have we done?'