On the other side of town, the tangy breeze blew off the Indian River, tugging Aradhon’s long, dark hair as he watched Trace walk away, his shoulders slumped in defeat, even though he walked like a man determined to do something for the one he loved. Weak. Emotions are the weakness of all humans. Of course, it was lucky for the dark elf that they were. Otherwise, his plan would not be going as well as it was. While he couldn’t hear the exchange between the human and the aswang, he could tell by their body movements that things were progressing just as he needed. Soon, the aswang would lead the human Warrior out into the open and right into Aradhon’s clutches. The Guardian Sword would be his.