Master Puppeteer

Vladimir's POV

December, 1720. Somewhere in Durbent.

FLASHBACK

Pain. Never in my life have I felt pain such as this. it was in every single nerve ending, running rampant in my blood and in every breath I took.

What had gone wrong?

The morning had been the same. The weather was dreadful, rain whipping about, signaling an incoming storm, but that's par for the course for Durbent’s weather. Then a frantic call for help in my mind had thrown it all to hell.

Nikitin and I were having a routine meeting when Malchi’s breathless yell for help had shattered my eardrums. It took a few seconds to realize that he had contacted me telepathically. Nikitin shared my look of distress. Malchi must have contacted him as well.

‘What’s wrong brother?’ I asked him in my mind.