He kicked the horse, heading it toward the main gate that pierced the half-finished wall. He sat straight in the saddle, comfortable with the gait of the horse. His cloak was thrown back to reveal the rich armor beneath. His sword alone was worth more money than most Sanctuarites could ever hope to see in their lives.

He smiled- It appealed to him, coming back like this, flaunting his wealth and his scars. The scars covered his hands, crisscrossed his fea- tures. His face was smooth-shaven; his hard smile emphasized the strong chin. The horse's steady pace brought him closer to the wall.

It loomed above him, beckoning him on, down the road into the ugly maw of hell. The other passengers of the road made room for him to pass. They knew trouble when they saw it. Maybe it was the tight mus- cles they sensed moving beneath the armor, or the sharp weapons that he carried. But maybe it was something else.

He had come home, to Sanctuary. He is Cade, here to return the city's gifts. He is Cade and he is riding into hell, with death his only follower.

Sarah walked about the main room in aimless circles. Her hand darted out to touch a chest here, a wall hanging there. There was no thought behind her motion; she tried not to think too much. She stopped, staring at a blank wall, fighting the urge to just cry-no, not cry but shout, scream, pound, and break things.

He's gone ...

That was what it always led to, the thinking, that he was gone. Terrel, her husband, her love, Terrel, he's gone ... She always tried to stop it there, but it continued, relentlessly, the memories still so fresh after al- most half a year.

They had killed him right here in this room, while she slept. She heard nothing, nothing- Waking up, he wasn't beside her and she was always up first. Small annoyance, walking about, the children still asleep, going downstairs. Gods, she'd almost walked right past it. Even with all the blood.