The gray clouds ominously swirled, blocking the day's sunlight and transferring the darkest energy to The Garden of Hours. The vibrant colors of the foilage seeped out like nature was spilling blood and preparing for an inevitable death. However, no one noticed the evil surrounding them, as all their attention was on Grace. Gem groaned in frustration, and his fingers trembled as he scanned his spell book for anything that could revive her. He couldn't afford to lose another FT'er. The Grand Sluicer warned him that it would be his last field trip if he did.

A flash-bang startled them all. It was the Foreman—no first or last name, only Foreman. The Grand Sluicer and the High Council of Quartzein sent a fixer of loose ends when there were issues in the garden. Her red, long hair flapped wildly, tossed...

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