Catryn froze in her tracks and arms enveloped her tightly, pinning her in place. That time, she did not struggle. She wanted to hate him, she wanted to vow to bring him to justice for his actions. But she couldn’t deny his words.
Trepidation in her steps, she moved slowly towards the dancing light, not at all surprised as it pulled further away each time she drew near. A voice near her ear startled her as the priest murmured “You can see the wisps?”
Catryn’s eyes went red, the rage boiling over inside her. As her magic battled for control, the bandit’s smile faltered as he felt her alarming presence sweeping over him. Her hands shook but her voice was strong. “You get one warning. Release them. Or die.”
The freedom of wind rushing through her hair, one last time. If her mind could register the childish longing, buried somewhere deep within, she might have given into it. Instead, she sighed the wish away on a heavy exhale and scanned the street below.
A cold blue flickering light caught her attention. It flittered and danced at the edge of her vision, surrounded by strange, haunting whispers. Echoes of the life it had once led. Ahren felt the change in her and sighed with a small mocking smile.
The talisman of the Gatekeeper hanging at Wolf’s wrist was her first and only warning of the attack before a thick rusted blade swung out of the shadows. She pulled back just in time, feeling the rush of cold air as the clumsy hunk of metal that passed for a greatsword rushed by her face.
Ghostly whimpers and whispers filled the air, and the temperature dropped once more. They held their breath as they considered the options, but they all felt the change in the air as the beasts caught their scents.
Seeing the meat sloughing from their bones, the sinew snapping, turned her stomach. Their wrappings had unravelled and hung off them, along with strips of skin, fluttering in a breeze Wolf could not feel.
With hints of powder blue scales, matched by her eyes and hair, her Wreika heritage was evident. Somewhere in her lineage was a blue wyvern, a fearsome and mystical creature, the likes of which was rarely seen in the current age. With her pale skin, fair as snow, and nails shaped into talons, Ninian looked ethereal and dangerous.
Smoke and steel drew her, threads of gold and silver dancing in what was left of her vision, leading the way. She murmured a prayer of thanks to whichever gods were listening that there were no mercenaries in the alley. She no longer had the strength to keep up any kind of façade.
