lip curled. mouth tightened. these days, mahler could hardly stand the taste in his own mouth.
praimfaya had returned; he would await sequoia, and when it had come, the gargoyle would see his way to moonspear. he would see for himself what had befallen elke; it was the last justice he could do for a child he had failed.
the graf drew closer to the lake, picking up the ethereal trail of his reticent perlenblüte. she had remained with him all this time, from sagtannet and nova, to the cleavstone bracken wood, and now here. mahler would not forgive himself if fate prevailed to move them again; he simply must be stronger than such unseen forces.
flung across her owlish perch; the shadowpriest came upon phaedra. relieved at the sight of her continued existence within the beautiful tumblefall of cloistered land, he stepped somewhat close and set his lilac stare upon the edge of the clearwater flowing. she was thin, he thought, drawn. "hier nisten zwei fischadler." pausing a moment. "welche namen sollen wir ihnen geben?"