Phoenix Maplewood zuletzt

here there was no sign of the cat. nor of praimfaya. nor of worripa. nor of wylla, or of phaedra — oh he knew that mother and daughter had left rivenwood for a time, but mahler had not expected to ache so fiercely.
there was notably also no one present to hear him cough, great draughts of air sending shards of pain along his throat. and for a moment, all mahler could consider was his own helplessness.
he pushed himself upright and continued.